


That's Where I'm Going With Your Heart

by kyrene



Series: Where Are You Going With My Heart [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lots of Sex, M/M, schmoopy emotion, stepbrother slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrene/pseuds/kyrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to "Where Are You Going With My Heart" - more stepbrothers AU with lots and lots of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure you boys are going to be okay?" Gloria asked for the umpteenth time, as though she and Arthur's father hadn't been leaving Arthur and Eames at home on their own often since they had gotten married. On the other hand.... "It's a holiday, after all," she continued, which might explain her current bout of hand-wringing.

"We just spent Christmas together, Mum," Eames spoke up, and Arthur had to bite his lip at the low rumble of promise in his stepbrother's voice. "We're going to be fine. Just be you go and enjoy your cruise."

They'd gotten home from Arthur's grandparents' house the night before, and now they were right on the verge of having the house to themselves. Arthur and Eames were so looking forward to this that they could taste it.

The night before they had both climbed into Arthur's bed by mutual agreement, because Arthur's was the room that was further away from their parents' bedroom. That, after having hopped in the shower almost first thing once they'd returned home and fulfilling the promise they'd made one another before leaving Arthur's grandparents' house, of screwing in said shower. Then they'd screwed in the bed. More than once, in fact. Arthur's bed hadn't seen so much action since he'd first been hit by puberty.

Arthur wondered vaguely how much sex was too much, but came to the conclusion that there was no such thing; especially while they were still on winter break.

It had been incredibly difficult, getting up early, when he was peeling himself out of a bed shared with Eames, extracting himself from Eames' arms. And Eames certainly hadn't wanted to let him go. Arthur'd had to give him a blowjob in order to get free of his arms. Not that he hadn't wanted to give it just as much as Eames had wanted to receive it. Not that he'd _wanted_ to leave Eames' embrace....

All in all, he'd gotten up half an hour later than usual, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Eames had told him that the sex was sort of like exercise, before going down on his knees and distracting Arthur from his morning workout in the best way. So Arthur had kind of given his daily routine a miss, but he hadn't much minded. Then they'd showered together a second time and made themselves presentable before heading to the kitchen, to make coffee, tea, and breakfast.

All in all it had been a wonderful evening, an amazing night, and a pleasant, comfortable morning, even after Dad and Gloria had roused and joined them in the kitchen. It almost felt like they were a real family, sitting at the table, eating blueberry waffles, even though Arthur knew he'd never think of Eames as an actual brother.

Well, not unless they were _very incestuous_ brothers....

But they were happy, and Gloria was happy, and since Gloria was happy, then Arthur's Dad was happy, and so as far as Arthur was concerned they _were_ one big, happy family. Even if they'd sort of been cobbled together and Arthur and Eames were going to have to hide the fact that they were sleeping together. In both the literal and figurative sense.

It was a good thing that Eames did their laundry, Arthur thought with a smug smirk that he tried to keep largely internal. Even better that their parents were going to be leaving them to their own devices before the end of the day. The cruise had seemed like a good idea before Christmas; now it was a veritable godsend.

"You've already booked and paid for the cruise, the airline tickets, and everything," Arthur pointed out, feeling a little mean the moment the words left his lips. Because he knew, from the time they'd spent living together ever since Gloria had moved in a little before the wedding, that Gloria wasn't the sort to waste money, ever. She wasn't self-conscious about what Dad spent on her, but she obviously came from a world where the essentials could barely be afforded, much less luxuries on a regular basis.

Even if he hadn't already figured it out for himself, Arthur could have picked up as much from some of his long talks with Eames about their respective upbringings. Even though Eames had never come out and said so, it was obvious that his father's drinking had kept them at the poverty level for most of Eames' life, and Arthur knew that this had left its mark as much on Gloria as it had on Eames.

"You know we'll be fine," Arthur added quickly, because he didn't like using Gloria's weakness against her, even if it got him what he wanted, even though he hadn't really meant to do it. "We'll celebrate the coming of the new year here with the sparkling cider Dad got, and you guys can celebrate it with champagne on the cruise."

And that might have been considered a slight dig as well, because all of them knew Eames didn't like drinking or being around drunk people. But Arthur didn't think that Gloria would pick up on that; she wasn't dumb or anything, but she definitely wasn't as bright as her son was.

Arthur's father did give him a sharp look, which Arthur returned as innocently as he could manage, but Gloria was already nodding. "Oh, I know you boys will be fine," she cooed, moving forward to stand on tiptoe and peck a quick kiss on each of their cheeks. Arthur thought that standing in the hallway with their luggage, ready to head out the door, was a little late for Gloria to be having a crisis, but she was so seldom logical that he wasn't surprised.

"You have each other," Gloria continued, and Arthur could see Eames _blushing_ out of the corner of his eye. He was going to _pounce_ him the moment the car was out of the driveway.

"It's not as though New Years is a big holiday anyway," Eames added, giving his mother an extra hug. "We already did Christmas, Mum, and it was _great_ , with the whole fam. Now it's time for just you and Oscar to have some fun."

"Oh, my darling," Gloria choked, her eyes shiny with tears she didn't shed, but then Oscar mildly reminded her that if they didn't hurry they'd miss their flight to the coast, and with a last fluttery wave for both of them, she was headed for the taxi waiting patiently in their driveway.

"Use the emergency card if you need to," Dad said on his way out the door, as if Arthur didn't know that, as if he wouldn't do so, as though he didn't have enough pocket money to keep them until their parents got back... but Arthur thought he understood; it was his father's way of showing that he loved him, that he wanted to make sure that both of them were taken care of while he was away.

"Sure thing, Dad," he said, smiling and trying to show his father that he got it and that he loved him in return. "Have a good time, okay?"

"Will do," Oscar said, with an uncharacteristic wink, and then they were gone. And Arthur and Eames had the house to themselves for two whole weeks. Time they would also be off of school. Time they would spend _screwing in every room of the house_. Or, well, probably not their parents' room. Or the Master bath. Or his Dad's office.... But that still left them an awful lot of space and time and Arthur turned to Eames with what he was dead certain was a predatory gleam in his eye.

The apples of Eames' cheeks were still pink, and he had bed-head even though they'd showered a couple of hours ago, and Arthur didn't think he could have found him more attractive if Eames had been actively trying to seduce him. Eames had the power to seduce Arthur simply by existing.

"So, I have it on good authority that we have each other," Eames told Arthur, those incredible lips curving in a mischievous smirk, his dark grey eyes twinkling brightly.

Arthur smirked back, surging forward and getting Eames pinned against the wall beside the umbrella stand. Not that Eames tried very hard to resist. He hadn't tried at all, in fact. Instead, his arms slid around Arthur's waist, getting in a good ass-groping while he was at it, and then holding him close.

"What do you think the odds are your mother won't forget something and have to come back?" Arthur asked, his mouth less than inch from Eames'. He loved that they were of a height, that neither one had to bend his neck up or down in order to kiss.

It was hard to read Eames' face when it was this close, but Arthur thought he looked more turned on than thoughtful. That might have something to do with the way Arthur was grinding his hips into Eames', though.

"Considering they're running late," Eames said breathlessly, his hands resting warm and heavy on Arthur's ass, searing him through the thin material of the pajama bottoms he was still wearing, because it was winter break, dammit, and he could wear whatever he wanted, all day, "And have a plane to catch, it's unlikely. But we'd probably best retire to my room, just to be safe."

"Your room?" Arthur queried, stepping back reluctantly and raising a brow. Not that he minded, but it was further from the front door, so he had to wonder....

"Well," Eames said, and he gave Arthur an almost shy smile, flashing crooked teeth, as he threaded their fingers together. Arthur tightened his own fingers before Eames could second think this move and pull away. There was something about it that was so sweet that his heart almost hurt, even though it felt a little girly to think so. "We've already done unspeakable things in your bed. I figured it was my room's turn to see some serious carnality."

Arthur chuckled, and if Eames hadn't been pacing him as they made their way quickly down the hall, he'd have dragged him toward his room. "I think that can be arranged," he said, inwardly delighted by Eames' phrasing, even though he would have felt silly commenting on this fact. He wondered if Eames would ever stop surprising him, but he kind of thought not. He really hoped not.

Once in Eames' bedroom Arthur stripped off his shirt while Eames locked the door. "Just in case," he said, and Arthur knew that neither of them was going to feel safe until they could be absolutely _sure_ that their parents were on the plane to the coast, where they would board their cruise ship. Of course, once that was a surety, all bets were off, and they were going to have sex _everywhere_ , for _days_. For _two weeks_.

Two. Whole. Fucking. Weeks. Of fucking.

Arthur's dick was hard in his pajama bottoms, and he was ready to be shed of those as well as his shirt, but Eames was still fully clothed, and that wasn't fair.

"Get naked," Arthur ordered, not caring that the wording was less than elegant. It got his meaning across, and Eames' eyes flashed with heat beneath heavy lids as he moved to do as directed without a hint of hesitation or resentment.

Arthur watched avidly as Eames stripped his long-sleeved teeshirt over his head, muscles bunching smooth and sleek under warm skin. His fingers itched to touch, his tongue wanted to taste, but he held off a moment, because he wanted most of all to _see_. They'd been all over each other under the bedcovers the night before, and there'd been the two showers they'd taken together to either side of the night, before they'd slept and after they'd gotten up, but this was Arthur's first real chance to take a good look at Eames since they had been in the basement of his grandparents' house.

It was a sight well worth savoring. Arthur knew that they both spent time working out, but it seemed to be doing Eames more good than it was Arthur. He'd have to ask Eames what he was doing differently... but not right this instant. Maybe later.

Eames wasn't a lot bulkier than Arthur, but he was sculpted, his arms and legs well-muscled, his shoulders a bit broader than Arthur's and his chest tapering down to a slim waist. His hips were a little wider than Arthur's as well, though not too much so, and his dick....

That was where Arthur's train of thought became completely derailed, and he decided that getting Eames on his back on his own bed was becoming of highest priority.

"You should get undressed too--" Eames was saying as Arthur did just that, then he yelped a little as he tumbled onto the mattress, Arthur straddling him and pressing forward to claim and ravish those full red lips.

Neither of them had anything witty to say while their lips were thus occupied, but Arthur didn't feel this was any great loss. Not when Eames' tongue was deep in his mouth, his own tongue twining around it.

It occurred to him briefly that this was really kind of wrong, seeing that they were stepbrothers.... But they weren't related by blood. They had only met a short time ago, hadn't been raised together. And the taboo aspect of it only made it that much hotter.

While Arthur was slightly distracted by his thoughts, Eames moved to flip them both over so that now he was on top, grinding down against Arthur's hard-on, his own bare and leaking on Arthur's pajama bottoms.

Now Arthur kind of regretted the fact that he _hadn't_ taken the time to remove his own clothing. But then Eames was nibbling his way down Arthur's neck, pausing the suck at the delicate, sensitive flesh and he stopped thinking. They didn't have to worry about hickeys now; not until closer to their parents' return... and their parents had only just left.

Eames was running his hands over Arthur's arms and torso as though he was something special, something to be treasured, which was kind of ridiculous in Arthur's opinion, but it did make him feel warm and appreciated and more than a little hedonistic. And he wasn't used to feeling that way; at least not when he wasn't getting himself off with his own hand.

In point of fact, having sex with someone else was about a hundred times better than jerking off. And Arthur might be fumbling a bit, and learning as he went along, but Eames certainly seemed to know what he was doing. In order to restrain his natural inclination toward jealousy, Arthur was going to assume that most of this was natural talent.

He knew that it was unlikely that Eames hadn't had any lovers before him... but he sort of hoped that there hadn't been any naked sexing. A part of him kind of wanted to ask if Eames was still a virgin, but it just seemed a little intrusive, even though they'd sucked each other off multiple times, had rubbed off against each other, and were most certainly going to indulge in far greater intimacies now that they were home alone.

"Here," Eames grunted, and Arthur whined as Eames got up on his hands and knees, then shifted to the side off of his prone body, but once he realized that Eames was tugging at the waistband of his pajama bottoms, he shifted his hips upward and reached down to help maneuver it down past his erect dick.

"Next time, we take these off before I get you on your back on the bed," Eames grumbled, but he was grinning as he said it, and he reached down to wrap his fingers around Arthur's hard-on without a hint of shyness or hesitation.

"Mm," Arthur said, not really agreeing or arguing, as he flexed into Eames grip. He was a little disappointed when Eames let go, but then he stretched himself out over top of Arthur again, all radiant heat, fresh salt-sweat smell, and hard muscles. Not to mention the stiff dick pressing into Arthur's belly.

Arthur slid his arms around Eames' neck and shoulders, not exactly _clinging_ but certainly not about to let him go now that he had him. Eames' lips were on his again, and Arthur quickly stuck his tongue in Eames' mouth before he could do it first. Not that this was a competition, but Arthur didn't see anything wrong with being a little aggressive. He knew he liked it when Eames was aggressive, and he was just as certain that Eames appreciated the same from him.

As though in confirmation, Eames made a muffled sound of pleasure, twining his tongue around Arthur's. They both had their hard dicks caught between their bellies, and the friction was delicious as Eames ground down against Arthur. They weren't even going to need any lotion, Arthur thought heatedly as he did his best to buck up into Eames' thrusts, clamping his thighs around Eames' hips, his hands moving restlessly over the muscles of Eames' back. Eames had given up trying to kiss him once his motions had grown more vigorous, but their mouths remained close, sharing hard gusts of breath and the cut-off curse words that Eames managed to utter from time to time.

Arthur could feel their hard, throbbing dicks sliding side by side, slickened by the copious way that Eames was leaking. It made Arthur's mouth water a little, but it was too late, they were both already too close to coming for either of them to switch to blowjobs.

It was Eames who was doing most of the work, and Arthur who had all of Eames' weight resting on him, so it surprised Arthur a little when Eames let out a little gasp and then jerked and shuddered, intense heated wetness bursting between them.

If this were a romance -- or, rather, a gay porn novel -- Arthur supposed this would be the moment that he came as well. But he still needed a little more before he got off. He was close, so close, and yet....

Arthur wouldn't have been at all surprised or offended if Eames had just collapsed atop him, and he was already halfway planning on rolling them both over and rutting to completion against Eames' belly. But then Eames startled him by quickly pulling himself together -- more quickly than Arthur was usually capable of right after coming -- then sliding to one side and down, sucking Arthur's come-smeared dick into his mouth before Arthur quite realized what was happening.

The heat and the suction completely undid Arthur. Arching up into the intense sensation, he grasped a handful of Eames' hair and a fistful of the bedcovers, his heels digging into the mattress and his hips jolting upward as his dick pulsed in Eames' mouth, shooting his load over Eames' tongue and down his throat.

Arthur didn't feel nearly as coordinated as Eames had been, as he sank into the mattress. He lay there in a limp puddle as Eames maneuvered them both and the covers so that they were between the sheets. Arthur had Eames' come drying on his stomach, but he honestly didn't care as the other boy pulled him close in their little nest.

The sheets smelled of Eames, and rapidly warmed with the heat pouring off their bodies, and Eames was pressed up against Arthur, his arms tight around him. Arthur felt as though he was completely wrapped up in the scent of Eames and sex, and he sighed happily, resting his head on Eames' pillow, and moving in for a soft kiss, not to titillate, simply to enjoy the closeness a little longer, a little more.

"That wasn't quite what I was planning," Eames murmured, licking at Arthur's lips, then shifting his head back so he could meet his eyes. "Not that I'm in any way disappointed."

Arthur let out a huff of laughter, reaching up and just touching one of Eames' sharp cheekbones. It still amazed him that they were so comfortable with one another, and yet it felt so right.... It was a little hard to believe that someone like Eames could want someone like him, but here they were, and Arthur had Eames' jizz on his stomach to prove to him that Eames did in fact want him.

"Whatever you were planning," Arthur said, running his fingers over the plush swells of Eames' gorgeous lips, reddened by pressure and damp with saliva, "I'm sure we can get around to it in a bit. We've got two whole weeks, remember?"

"Mm. We've got the rest of our lives," Eames drawled, and the husk in his voice hooked in Arthur's groin and tugged, even though he'd just come and wasn't going to be getting it up again right away, even if he _was_ sixteen. The words themselves made his heart thump, made his throat ache. He hadn't expected any declarations like this from Eames, but when he heard it, he knew it sounded perfect.

"Yeah," he said, which was less than eloquent, but he couldn't just leave it at that and not agree with Eames. Verbally as well as with every cell in his body.

Eames didn't seem to mind the lack of effusiveness, and they lay there for a bit longer, trading kisses, not at all sleepy but replete from sex. Arthur slid his arms around Eames, and they held each other, maybe not tightly, but their thighs were entangled and Arthur had no intention of moving away until he had to.

"I suppose we should talk about... things," Eames finally said. He didn't sound reluctant, just drowsy.

"Yeah," Arthur said again, because it was true, they really did need to discuss this thing between them, whatever it was. It wasn't as simple as a regular relationship. It wasn't even the usual complexity of a homosexual relationship and the challenges that could bring, with outside pressures and overarching societal disapproval. No, it was much more complex than that. "We definitely need to talk."

Eames looked a little surprised, but not much and not for long.

"Ariadne already knows, obviously," Arthur continued, because even if it had been Eames who had raised the subject, Arthur had spent some time thinking about it since that moment he had kissed Eames in his grandparents' basement. In between all the sex they'd been having, that was. "She approves, considering that she's the one who gave us that extra shove to get us moving."

Eames was watching him intently, and he didn't add anything so Arthur continued.

"But otherwise we have to be circumspect. It sucks, but that's the way it is. Dad and Gloria can't find out, obviously. Everyone at school knows we're stepbrothers. I don't... I don't _want_ to have to hide it, but we don't really have a choice."

Eames leaned in to kiss him, then nodded, his expression thoughtful and a little sad. "You're right," he said. "You know that if I could, I'd be telling everyone. On the one hand, this makes it far easier to get into one another's beds. Hell, we'll be together all the time when we're not at school. So that's nice. But on the other hand...."

"I know," Arthur sighed. He was glad that Eames agreed with him; not that he'd have had much room to argue. "Well, maybe if we go to college out of state," he said. The idea sprang fully formed into his head, and he eagerly gave it voice. "If we room together and no one knows we're related... _then_ we could just be boyfriends, right?"

He could feel his ears heating up, and he almost regretted saying the word, but Eames went a lovely shade of pink and then he reeled Arthur in and kissed him until they were both breathless.

"That is a grand idea," Eames informed him once they finally broke for air. "We'll still be brothers at home as far as Mum and Oscar know, but we can present ourselves as anyone we want to strangers, so long as we're careful."

Arthur's mind was already racing, coming up with plans even though college was still a year and a half away. But then Eames interrupted his thought process.

"That wasn't what I wanted to talk about, though."

"No?" Arthur frowned faintly at Eames. "What, then?"

"I... well...." If anything, Eames' cheeks grew more pink. "I kind of wanted to discuss topping and bottoming."

Arthur drew a blank for a moment, but then he realized what Eames was saying and he could feel his own face warming. "Ooooooh."

Eames smiled, his plush lips curving and tempting Arthur, even though this conversation was almost as important as the one they had just had. Or maybe even more important.

"Okay," Arthur said, biting his lower lip and forcing himself to meet Eames' eyes, because there was no reason not to. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

"Well. I like taking it just as well as I like giving it," Eames said, with a gleam in his eye and a wicked quirk to those lush lips. "So I was kind of hoping that you were amenable to the idea of trading off."

Arthur could feel himself blushing hotly, even though it was ridiculous when his dick had _just_ been in Eames' mouth. The idea of it.... Of course he knew how penetrative sex worked. It might not have been at the front of his mind, but he supposed that he had known instinctively that he and Eames would reach the point, eventually, that they would want that.

And the reality of what Eames had just said was both overwhelming and arousing at once, Arthur had to admit.

"I... I don't...." His face felt tight and almost hurt he was flushing so hard, but Eames was suddenly looking trepidatious, and Arthur hated that he had been the one to put that expression on his face, so he hastened to force the words out. "I like that idea, Eames, really. I just.... I've never...."

"Oh." Eames looked enlightened, then swooped in and kissed Arthur soundly. He could feel some of the heat in his face fading, the rest of it blending into the simmering warmth of arousal that was beginning to wash through him.

"Relax, darling," Eames murmured, fingers carding through Arthur's hair. "I didn't mean right now. There's no rush. I just... thought it was something that we'd probably better touch on. And the sooner the better, yeah?"

"Yeah," Arthur breathed, because evidently sex with Eames completely destroyed his vocabulary. "And I do, I want...."

Instead of trying to articulate it, he surged up and over, and now it was his turn to have Eames on his back on the bed. Because, hey, if Eames wanted to trade off, they could get started now, even if they weren't ready for full-on penetrative sex yet.

It wasn't as though Arthur hadn't noticed that Eames liked being manhandled just as much as he liked to manhandle Arthur. And Arthur himself certainly had no problem with this. He got off on touching Eames just as much as he did Eames touching him. To imagine sliding his dick into Eames' glorious ass.... God, it was just as much of a turn-on as imagining Eames putting that thick uncut dick inside of Arthur.

"We're going to have to take it slow at first," Eames was saying, his hands running restlessly over Arthur's back and shoulders, fingers flexing over his rear as Arthur settled between Eames' eagerly spread legs. "No need to rush the stretching, and it'll be so much better if we make sure you're ready for it, trust me."

"You've done it before?" Arthur asked, even though he kind of didn't want to hear the answer. "Had sex with... someone...?"

Eames bit his lower lip and looked... not ashamed, which was fine because there certainly wasn't anything to be ashamed of, but he looked a little anxious. "I have," he verified. "Didn't know I had you to be saving myself for, after all." And he said it lightly, but his words rang true, and Arthur knew they were both pink now, and not just with arousal. "But that can work to our advantage, right? Not as much fumbling and learning how-to from the internet."

Arthur had to laugh a little at this, because he knew that this was exactly what he would have been doing if Eames hadn't been offering to educate him instead.

"I'm not jealous over something that happened before we met," he assured Eames, petting his hair with a gentle hand. "Well, a little jealous. But I know it's not something that's any of my business...."

"But it is," Eames protested, frowning faintly up at him. "It _is_ your business. And first thing, I want you to know I was always safe. And it was only a couple of times. With the same guy, and I thought I was in love with him, though I figured out later it was only a glorified crush."

"Eames, it's okay," Arthur hastened to assure him. It was good to hear those things, he thought. But it was also kind of killing his burgeoning erection, to think of Eames with someone else, someone who probably didn't appreciate the wonder of what Eames had been offering. Someone who had taken Eames' virginity without loving him in return.

Well, Arthur was only surmising that last. But if someone, the first and only guy Eames had slept with, had really been in love with Eames, then he never would have let him go. Arthur certainly had no intention of doing so.

"I'm never letting you go," he murmured, leaning down to kiss Eames. And it might be a somewhat nonsensical segue, but Eames didn't seem to mind. If anything, it obviously turned him on, as he clung more tightly, and kissed more fiercely.

"I mean, I've snogged other guys," Eames said, once he could speak. "Not saying I've only ever been with one. But only one has ever been--"

"Eames." Arthur plastered his hand over Eames' mouth, effectively stilling him. "You're killing my hard-on here. I didn't expect that you were chaste. I've messed around a little, with girls and with guys. You don't want to hear about that, do you?" When Eames' eyes went wide then narrow and he shook his head, Arthur grinned sheepishly. "Well, then allow me the same courtesy, okay?"

"Yes, love," Eames said into his palm, raising shivers over his entire body with his hot breath. Arthur lifted his hand away and replaced it with his mouth again. And once they started seriously kissing and Eames stopped babbling about his past sexual experiences, Arthur discovered that he had absolutely no trouble getting it up again. Nor did Eames.

After all, as Eames had said, it was time for Eames' room to see some serious carnality. And so it did. To the point that they needed another shower, even though it had only been a few hours since their first one that day.

"It's a good thing Mum and Oscar are gone," Eames grinned as he soaped up Arthur's back and Arthur stood directly in the water in order to sluice off his front. "Otherwise they'd begin to wonder why we're bathing so often."

Arthur grimaced, but Eames was right. He kind of hoped that they would assume it had been one of them who had showered last night, and the other this morning, if they even thought about it. But it was much easier now, since he and Eames were home alone, and they didn't have to worry about what their parents thought.

"I'm hungry," he informed Eames as they dried off and got dressed. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," Eames replied, and so they made their way into the kitchen in search of sustenance.

***

It wasn't lunch time yet but they were evidently both ready to eat again, so they put together sandwiches. Eames also heated some spiced cider -- it had been on sale and Mum had made sure to stock up -- then they took these and some of the leftover Christmas cookies with them into the den.

Arthur made sure they paused under the fake mistletoe to kiss on their way in, then they sat and looked at the Christmas tree while they ate and talked. Christmas was over, of course, but Arthur had told Eames that he and his Dad tended to leave the tree up until New Years. Eames was fine with this, because it was beautiful, never mind that he'd come down sick in the process of fetching it home. In fact, by this point he felt that the den would look a little empty without it.

Arthur was wearing the sweater that Eames had given him for Christmas, and he looked better in it than Eames could have imagined. The green made his eyes look more golden than brown, even as dark as they were, and the vivid shade complimented his skin tones. Eames felt belatedly that he ought to be using Arthur's gift, but he didn't tend to wear a watch when he was at home, and, anyway, it was so nice that he wanted to save it for special occasions.

"You look so soft, I just want to snuggle you," he told Arthur, blushing as he said it because he sounded like a sappy idiot, but he'd been unable to keep this thought to himself.

Arthur grinned at him, dimples creasing his pink cheeks, and he set aside his empty plate and held out his hands. "Come on, then," he offered.

Eames wasn't quite through with his sandwich, but he couldn't imagine a day he would choose food over cuddling with Arthur. So he set his plate aside as well, and melted into Arthur's embrace.

They settled themselves with Arthur in the corner where the sofa arm met its back, a pillow propped under his shoulderblades, and Eames draped over him like a sprawling teenage blanket. Eames nestled his cheek against the soft material of the sweater where it covered Arthur's collarbone, and simply enjoyed the feeling of Arthur solid underneath him, the smell of Arthur wrapping itself around him the way Arthur's arms did.

"Am I too heavy?" he asked, as he felt Arthur shifting beneath him. He was ready to remove himself, however reluctantly, but Arthur replied in the negative.

"No, this is fine. I like it. I was just reaching for the remote. I haven't seen the news in days, and I thought I could catch up, if you don't mind."

Eames sighed, but he felt he did so fondly. "That's fine," he replied magnanimously, nuzzling Arthur's upper chest. "Just be aware that I might want to watch some of my programming later."

"Of course," Arthur replied, as though it _was_ a matter of course, and his free hand moved to card through Eames' hair as he flipped through the channels on the television.

Eames might have dozed off a little, not much caring about what was going on in the world when he had his own little world, right here in Arthur's arms, with Arthur wrapped up in his return embrace.

Just _being with_ Arthur was all that he wanted or needed, Eames thought dreamily. It had been sheer happenstance that their parents had gone off on a cruise the day after he and Arthur had admitted their feelings and desires for one another -- well, a day and a night to be more accurate -- but it had worked to their benefit so magnificently that Eames could hardly stand it. He was filled to bursting with happiness and affection.

It was a little sad that he was so glad to see his Mum leave, he supposed, but it wasn't as though he didn't love her. It was just that... well, there was a reason that newlyweds went on a honeymoon directly after the wedding. And he and Arthur hadn't even had to leave the house, which was even better. It made Eames blush to think such things, even in the privacy of his own mind, but he knew that how he felt about Arthur was definitely comparable to the newly married. He was just beyond fortunate that Arthur felt the same way about him in return.

Arthur watched his fill of the news, toying with Eames' hair the whole time, then settled on a television programme that Eames recognized as being a few years old. It was a kid's cartoon, probably one Arthur recalled fondly, but Arthur turned the volume down so low Eames almost couldn't hear it before setting down the remote and wrapping both of his arms around Eames in a manner Eames hesitated to label as possessive... but couldn't really claim was not.

"Is there anything you'd rather be doing?" Arthur asked quietly, and he was giving Eames an out, even while he was clinging tightly.

"Than this?" Eames questioned, rousing himself enough to lever up and meet Arthur's gaze. He was just as gorgeous as Eames remembered and more so. "Absolutely not, darling." After all, it had been Eames' idea to cuddle.

Arthur flushed a little but looked charmed and delighted at once. Eames kissed him gently, then laid his head back down on Arthur's chest.

"Good," Arthur said, giving Eames a squeeze, and Eames was pretty sure he had just dropped a kiss to the top of his head. "Me neither."

Eames thought about all the guys he'd messed around with in the past -- well, it hadn't been _that_ many; he hadn't been promiscuous or anything -- and how he had cuddled with pretty much none of them, and how he hadn't really _wanted_ to cuddle with most of them. But here he was with Arthur, they'd already gotten off together three times today, and all he wanted to do was remain near to him. To listen to Arthur's heart beat, to feel his arms around him. It was undeniably squishy of him, but this was almost as good as the sex. In fact, until his cock recovered and got interested in the heat and scent of Arthur again, Eames almost felt it was _better_ than sex. With the caveat that he was probably going to change his mind back once he got horny, of course.

And there was also the fact that Arthur seemed to be enjoying this just as much as Eames was.... Or at least nearly as much. He certainly didn't seem to mind Eames using him as a mattress, wasn't inclined to move, and the fingers of one hand had crept into Eames' hair again. He rubbed at Eames' scalp, tugging lightly at the tangles Eames hadn't bothered to comb out yet, stroked the pad of his thumb over the delicate, sensitive skin behind Eames' ear....

Eames shivered, his hips moving restlessly where they were pressed against the sofa cushion between Arthur's spread thighs. He wasn't irreversibly turned on yet... but Arthur was getting him there.

He could feel Arthur's cock under his own stomach, still soft and flaccid, and he thought that he might like to put it back in his mouth, to suck on it when it wasn't yet erect. But he also thought that if he started on that, it wouldn't be very long before it did get hard.

Not that this was a bad thing, of course, he thought with a smirk. In fact, it had proved to be a most satisfying endeavour, every time he had done it.

Speaking of sex, they hadn't finished their earlier discussion about topping and bottoming.

"We should start with me," Eames said, smoothing his hand over the soft fuzz of the sweater covering Arthur's waist and ribcage. It was more than a bit of a non sequitur, but it wasn't as though sex was ever very far from either of their minds. "Since I've actually had someone in my arse before. And we'll get you worked up to it, over a period of time."

Arthur was silent for a long moment and Eames worried that he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe Arthur didn't like the reminder that Eames had been buggered before. Maybe he was nervous about topping. Maybe he just didn't want it as much as Eames did. Although, Eames had thought that he'd responded enthusiastically enough when he'd raised the subject back in his bedroom.

"Are you sure you don't need preparations too?" Arthur asked, and Eames could feel his cock swelling a little, even though he kept his voice relatively even and analytical. "I mean, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Eames suddenly heard a little insecurity in that last question, and even though Arthur had said that he was okay with hearing about Eames' former lovers, that didn't mean that he was completely okay with it.

"It's been quite a while," he replied, and he shifted so that they were lying side by side on the sofa, face to face. There was barely room, but they were skinny teenage boys and they squeezed in close and made it work. Eames had an abrupt urge to kiss Arthur soundly, which he did. "All right, so we both could benefit from a little arse-play. There's plenty of ways we can get each other off while we finger each other."

Arthur went red, but Eames was pretty sure it was more from arousal than embarrassment. He was even more sure when Arthur surged forward and kissed him again. Arthur tasted of pastrami and hot cider and sugar cookies, and Eames could have happily kissed him forever.

"I think that is a solid plan," Arthur informed Eames breathlessly, with a wide grin. His eyes were sharp and sparkling, and he certainly didn't seem to have any doubts. Eames was glad to see that. He drank in the sight. Not because Arthur wanted this as much as he did, but simply because Arthur was so beautiful.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Oops, he hadn't meant to say that aloud.

Arthur stared at him incredulously for a long moment. A long, silent moment where Eames kicked himself for his lack of a verbal filter.

"Eames," Arthur finally said, his voice soft and husky. "Eames, I've been asking myself the same thing all this time."

Eames grinned sheepishly. It was so great to know that they both felt the same way. However....

"No offense meant," he said, fighting to restrain himself from fidgeting because Arthur was on the outside and doing so might shove him right over the edge of the sofa. "And I hope you take none... but after that emotional display I feel the overwhelming need to do something extremely manly and excessively masculine."

Fortunately, Arthur seemed to find this amusing, if the way his lips quirked was any indication. "I could put the game on," he offered. "Although, I think I just knocked the remote on the floor."

"Is there a game?" Eames wondered.

"Probably," Arthur shrugged. "Seems like there always is."

"But between Christmas and New Years?" Eames shook his head slightly, because there probably was. "At any rate, I've no interest in sports. Especially not as you Americans play them."

That might have been going a bit too far, but Arthur just snorted. "Eames, when have you seen me have anything to do with balls outside of gym?" he asked mildly.

Well, he could hardly let that one pass, now could he?

"Hush!" Arthur commanded forcefully, evidently realizing the opening he had given Eames. But when his preferred method of shutting Eames up was by mashing their mouths together, how could Eames be resentful?

And if they got distracted and got around to defiling the den a bit ahead of schedule... well, that was perfectly acceptable as well, so far as Eames was concerned. Arthur certainly didn't protest.

Eames never did finish eating his sandwich, but that was fine as well.

***

"I should probably text Ariadne again," Arthur said over dinner; which was pizza, soda, and old movies. The pizza had been purchased using the "emergency" card. Hey, if he didn't use it, his Dad asked him why he hadn't. He liked for Arthur to be self sufficient, but he also liked knowing he was providing for his son, even when he wasn't there.

"I successfully warned her off of visiting," he continued when Eames didn't answer. Of course, the mouth full of pizza he had might have factored into this. "But that doesn't mean we don't want to see her the whole of winter break, right?"

"We could meet her for coffee or something," Eames suggested, after swallowing and taking a swig of soda. Arthur thought that maybe other people -- especially people their age -- might consider this evening to be boring. But he was camped out in the den with good food, with the heat cranked up and a blanket if they needed it, and he was with _Eames_. Who happened to be the most important item on that list, as far as Arthur was concerned.

"Exactly." Arthur nodded, but he was suddenly distracted by the blob of tomato sauce at the corner of Eames' plush lips. They'd just had sex recently enough that his dick was still warm and tingling, and here Eames was, tempting him again.

Well, in Eames' defense, he probably didn't know about the sauce. Or else he'd have wiped it away already.

Arthur was just considering the possibility of _licking_ it off, when Eames asked, "Are there any good places to skate around here?"

"Well, there's a rink," Arthur offered, grabbing another slice of pizza. "None of the ice gets thick enough to skate outdoors. Or did you mean roller skating?"

Eames shook his head, grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth, and that was an opportunity lost. Arthur resolved to create a new one before the night was over. "No, I meant ice skating. I have fond memories."

"You're good at it?" Arthur asked, a little concerned, because his age had been in single digits the last time he'd gone ice skating.

"Not at all," Eames said, shaking his head. "But at least that way I had some bruises I could be honest about if anyone asked."

"Eames," Arthur said mournfully. Eames wasn't smiling anymore, but he looked way too blase about the whole thing.

"Sorry," Eames shrugged.

"God, don't apologize!" Arthur blurted, appalled. "It's not your fault your father was an abusive asshole!"

Eames shrugged again, then opened a new can of soda. "I can avoid talking about it, though. For you, Arthur."

"You shouldn't," Arthur told him firmly. "It's true that I don't like hearing about it, but that's only because it bothers me to hear about you being hurt in the past, when I can't do anything about it. If you don't want to talk about it, tell me and I'll drop the subject. But if you ever _do_ want to talk about it, don't avoid it just to keep me from feeling uncomfortable. It's something that happened to you, which means that as much as it sucked, it's a part of you. And that's important to me."

Eames was gazing at him steadily, and Arthur could feel his ears heating, but it had been important to him that Eames know how he felt.

He wasn't sure what response he had been expecting, but what he never would have expected was for Eames to sit back a little and tug out the waistband of his pants, peering inside.

"What the hell?" Arthur questioned, laughing a little despite how serious the subject they'd been discussing a moment ago had been.

"Checking to see whether I still had a cock," Eames informed him, one corner of his mouth crooking up in a grin. There was something fierce and desperate in his eyes, as though he needed to lighten the mood, and Arthur wasn't unsympathetic to that, so he played along.

"You'd damned well better," he said, smirking back at Eames. "Or else you'll need to tell me what I was sucking just before we ordered the pizza."

Eames' smile turned decidedly wicked and predatory, and Arthur felt that his own was the same. "Maybe I should check your pants as well," Eames rumbled, already moving toward Arthur.

"Stop!" Arthur planted a bare foot in the center of Eames' chest, flexing his toes to feel the powerful muscles bunching under the material of Eames' shirt. "I've already come five times today! If you get me hard again this soon, it's going to _hurt_. Give me a little while to recover!"

Eames sank back into his seat, and he was pouting, but it was so exaggerated that Arthur knew he was faking. "Fine," he said, as though Arthur was asking something terribly difficult of him, as though his own balls weren't at all sore. "I guess I can hold off. A little while."

"Until after dessert," Arthur declared, because someone had to lay down the law. And if they kept up at this rate, they weren't going to make it through the entire two weeks.

"You are a harsh taskmaster, Arthur," Eames told him, but his eyes were bright and clear, free of the shadow that the memory of his father had put there for a moment, and Arthur felt that the conversation had been an overall success.

And he _really_ wasn't going to be able to get it up again for a while. Sixteen year old refractory period or not.

***

Once they were done with dinner they sat and played video games, then they went into the kitchen and made brownies. It was pretty much Eames' idea of a perfect evening, mostly because he was with Arthur, though he really would have to declare himself officially a girl if he said so, and so he didn't.

Speaking of girls, though....

"We should have Ariadne come by some time to make more cookies," Eames suggested, checking the brownies while Arthur made them some cocoa. The toothpick he stuck in the centre came out mostly clean, so he grabbed the hot pads.

"Yeah, but not until tomorrow," Arthur said, stirring the cocoa so that it didn't scorch. He was really good at making hot chocolate. He had the patience for it, unlike Eames, who tended to get bored and wander off, leaving it to its own resources with terrible results.

"Or the day after," Eames agreed. "Have you texted her yet?"

"No," Arthur said sheepishly. "I should do that after dessert."

"You promised sex after dessert," Eames protested, and this time when he pouted he kind of meant it. He liked Ariadne just fine and was grateful to her for the part she had played in getting he and Arthur together, but there was no way he was okay with Arthur choosing her over Eames, even in a somewhat abstract manner.

"But I didn't say when," Arthur informed him, setting aside his wooden spoon for as long as it took to take the two steps to kiss Eames. "Don't worry, Eames. I'm sure I'll forget and end up calling or emailing her tomorrow."

Eames smiled, as much amused as placated. "As though you ever forget anything, darling."

Arthur arched a brow. "I'll have you know that you are _very_ distracting, Eames."

And, well, Eames just had to kiss him for that.

Of course, this had to be the moment that the hot chocolate decided to make a try at boiling over.

"Dammit!" Arthur yelped, as he rushed to save it. "What did I tell you?" he said, glancing over his shoulder with a look that probably wasn't meant to be as coquettish as is ended up being. Of course, the tight pyjama bottoms hugging his beautiful hindquarters didn't help him to look any more respectable.

"Sorry," Eames said, not meaning it at all, as he pressed up close behind Arthur and got himself a double handful of that lovely rear.

"Eames!" Arthur protested, but once he had the cocoa off the heat, he turned readily, slinging his arms around Eames' neck, and kissing him soundly. "You are incorrigible," he murmured against Eames' lips, then nipped at his chin.

"It's one of my greatest charms," Eames admitted, reaching around and grabbing at Arthur's behind again. "Has anyone ever told you what a truly delightful arse you have?"

"Before you? No, no one has," Arthur replied, his voice low and sexy. "But if I'm not mistaken, you've commented on it more than once."

Eames knew without looking -- because he was too close, and his eyes were sliding closed as he and Arthur traded languid kisses -- that the tips of Arthur's ears had turned pink. But at least he hadn't rejected the compliment out of hand. Of course, it might have helped that Eames had both of _his_ hands firmly settled on those tiny, tight arse cheeks, fingers digging into the muscles. God, he loved Arthur's bum. He would never get tired of mauling it.

Even better when Arthur's hands made their way down underneath Eames' sweats and he groped Eames, bare skin to bare skin, his tongue tangling with Eames' between their tightly joined mouths.

"We really should have some cocoa and brownies," Arthur mumbled into Eames' chin when they paused for a little air. Their hips were pressed tightly together, Arthur's chest hard against Eames' own, and dessert was the last thing on his mind.

"They'll keep," Eames replied, shifting so that he could slot one of his thighs between Arthur's. Not coincidentally, one of Arthur's legs ended up between his own. Well, the hot cocoa not so much, and they wouldn't be getting to eat the brownies while they were hot and gooey, but in Eames' mind, it was well worth it. They hadn't had sex in hours....

"You are a bad influence," Arthur whispered, but he bit Eames' lower lip immediately after he said it so Eames didn't take the reproach too seriously.

"Another of my charms," Eames informed him smoothly.

"You're lucky you're so _charming_ ," Arthur told him, a slight emphasis on the last word, his tone teasing without being mocking. "Otherwise I'd feel compelled to enforce that whole 'after dessert' thing."

"Hm." Eames licked a line along Arthur's jaw, then nuzzled his ear. "But who's to say that _this_ isn't our dessert? You never specified...."

Arthur's chuckle broke to pieces and turned into a shivery moan as Eames sucked his earlobe into his mouth. "You-- You do make an excellent argument," he gasped out, his hips grinding into Eames', fingers clutching convulsively at his arse.

Eames realized that he had crowded Arthur back into the counter beside the oven, and they were in danger of knocking over the cocoa, since he had managed to be so distracting that Arthur had left the handle facing outward -- and he _must_ have been very distracting, because Arthur was generally far more conscientious than that -- so he reluctantly pulled back a bit.

Very reluctantly. And only a bit.

"Should we repair to the bedroom?" he offered gallantly, raising his brows in what he hoped was a suggestive manner.

Arthur grinned at him, his lips pink and perfect. "Do you know, when you say things like that with your accent...."

He trailed off, and Eames tilted his head. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Arthur demurred, completely unconvincingly. "Just something Ariadne said once."

Eames was mildly curious, but there was still sex to be had, and they were both fully clothed and standing in the kitchen. That was something that needed to be rectified. "Was it at least complimentary?" he queried.

"Of course," Arthur answered indignantly. "I don't talk about people behind their backs, Eames, but if I do, I only say good things!"

Eames could have laughed at the inherently nonsensical contradiction in that statement, but he understood Arthur's intent and appreciated the sentiment. Besides, talking about Ariadne right now would distract them both from sex, and that was no good. No good at all.

"So... bedroom?"

"Yours," Arthur said, drawing away from Eames. His arse felt chilled when Arthur removed his palms, but they were headed to warm up all over, so that was a bearable loss. "We've already messed up the sheets. Then we can sleep in my bed tonight."

"We messed your bed up this morning, though, remember?"

Arthur stopped a moment in the hallway, his brow creasing in that little frown that always made Eames want to kiss his forehead. "Oh. Yeah." He sighed, but started moving again. "I was trying to avoid having to change the sheets."

"Well, let's go to mine anyway," Eames said, speeding up his steps and grasping Arthur's wrist, not that Arthur needed any encouragement to pace him. "I've got some unscented lotion we can use; I want you to start getting me ready."

"Ready for-- Oh.... Oh!"

Eames might have been worried, well, maybe just a tiny bit _concerned_ that he was pushing too far, too fast. But Arthur sped up his steps, and he was actually the one who opened Eames' door and dragged Eames into his own room after him.

"We really need to get some lube before we actually fuck," Eames said, watching with avid eyes as Arthur stripped his shirt off and then grabbed at the hem of Eames' shirt in turn. "But the lotion should do for now. It's what I've been using when I've been jerking off."

He caught himself before he finished with _thinking of you_ , but he wasn't sure Arthur was even paying attention to what he was saying. Not past the first part of it, anyway.

Arthur's eyes were hot and steamy, burning beneath heavy lids, and he licked his lips, his fingertips dancing over Eames' tattoos, skirting the thin line between tickling and titillating.

"Say that again," he growled, crowding up into Eames' personal space and rubbing insistently at his nipples now, drawing them into tight, tingling points.

"Say what?" Eames queried, which was a reasonable enough question. His own hands went to rest on Arthur's waist, and that wasn't near as sexy as the way Arthur was toying with his nipples and chest hair, but it was about all that he could manage right now. Arthur was quite distracting his own fine little self.

"Say we're going to fuck," Arthur rumbled, crowding in and claiming Eames' mouth. "It sounded so sexy, when you said it just now."

Eames chuckled. "It sounds sexy when you say it too," he informed Arthur in all honesty. "Especially when you _growl_ it like that."

"But your voice is sexier," Arthur told him, and he ran his hands down around Eames' ribcage, then he was grabbing at his arse again, which reminded Eames that they both needed to get naked yet. "Please, Eames?"

"Mm." If Arthur was willing to ask for it, then the least Eames could do would be to indulge him. "Let's get undressed," he murmured in Arthur's ear, running his hands up and down the hard muscles of Arthur's back. "Then we'll get on the bed, and I'll get out my lotion. You'll lube up your fingers and slide them into me, one at first, then two, and then three. If you want, you can suck me at the same time, or you can give me a hand job. And once you've gotten me off, I'll suck you until you come down my throat. Then we can go and have hot cocoa and brownies."

Arthur had been breathing heavily into Eames' ear, his hands roaming restlessly over Eames' back, almost in echo of the way Eames was stroking Arthur's back, but when Eames uttered that last in a low, seductive tone, he cracked up a little.

"What?" Eames asked, stepping back and grinning at Arthur. "Chocolate is dead sexy."

Arthur shook his head, but he was still smiling. "You're adorable," he said, and Eames considered taking offense, but then Arthur stripped off his pyjama bottoms and he decided it would be a waste of time. "Get out of your clothes and get that lotion," Arthur instructed without hesitation.

"Have I told you that I like it when you take charge?" Eames asked breathlessly, rapidly doing as instructed.

"It's only because you're taking too long," Arthur said, padding over on bare feet to take the bottle of lotion from Eames. He stared at it for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet Eames' gaze. "You said you masturbate with this?"

"I said I use it to jerk off," Eames corrected, flopping onto his mattress and scooting back to rest against his pillows. The sheets still smelled a little musky from their messing around that morning, and Eames stretched luxuriantly, giving Arthur an arch look. "But the answer to your question is yes."

Arthur was red, but Eames surmised that it was mainly from arousal. It was a bit strange to see him holding the lotion Eames had been using for nefarious purposes while imagining doing the sorts of things they'd spent the last two days doing, but Eames preferred to focus on what Arthur was about to use it for, rather than what he himself had been doing with it.

Arthur might have had more to say on the subject, but evidently the little show Eames had just put on was more compelling. As well it should be, Eames thought gleefully, as Arthur tumbled him back into the bed. Never letting go of the lotion, he noted.

Since Arthur was a bit handicapped by this, Eames made sure to get in more than his share of groping and fondling as Arthur settled over top of him. Arthur had the most amazing body. Lean and ropy with muscle, his skin soft and smooth. And then there were the odes that Eames could have written to glorify Arthur's cock. Not that it needed the help. Anyone who saw it--

But Eames cut that thought off immediately. Because nobody but him had better see Arthur's equipment! Well, okay, there was the locker room showers. But no one there should be _looking_ , and no one was going to see Arthur the way that Eames got to see him; hard and erect and lovely.

"I'm... I'm not sure...."

Arthur was staring down at the lotion, his lower lip caught between straight white teeth. His mouth was so beautiful.... But he was beginning to look trepidatious, so Eames hastened to offer him help.

"Just squeeze a little into your palm, warm it a little by rubbing your fingers in it, and then don't be shy. I've been fingering myself, so my arse is used to it."

Arthur was bright red, but he nodded, seeming to calm down at having clear directions to follow.

"Here, I'll roll over," Eames offered, suiting actions to words, squirming onto his belly as Arthur sat back and popped the cap of the bottle. The sound had Eames' cock swelling in response, the fact that it was Arthur opening it making him even harder.

"But that way I can't blow you," Arthur protested. If Eames strained, he thought he could hear Arthur pouring lotion into his hand.

"Point," Eames husked, folding his arms under his chin and grinding his hips and hard cock into the mattress, spreading his thighs in invitation. "We'll work around that after you get started."

He really did think this would be easier for Arthur, at least when he first started, if they weren't facing one another. So he was doing this more for Arthur than for himself, but he kind of thought that once Arthur got those long, elegant fingers inside of him, he would probably be perfectly capable of getting off simply from that and humping against the bed.

Not that this was the plan. He suspected that Arthur wouldn't approve. Eames was pretty sure that once he got over his initial shyness, Arthur would probably want to see Eames' face... or at least want the opportunity to suck his cock, if nothing else.

"So, you said you've been... doing this yourself?" Arthur asked. He was obviously trying to sound calm and analytical, but his voice trembled a little too much to pull it off. Eames didn't call attention to it, because that would make it even worse for Arthur, and he wasn't a creep like that. Besides, it was in his best interest to get Arthur as at ease as possible, as quickly as possible, in order to _get Arthur's fingers in him_ as quickly as possible.

"Yeah," he replied, spreading his legs as Arthur moved to kneel between them. He was sure that he was blushing, and he would have been stunned if Arthur hadn't been. It was definitely better to start Arthur off this way. Eames had at least been in this position before.

Well, in a manner of speaking. Not literally; he'd never spread his legs while lying on his stomach like this. So it was kind of new territory for him, almost as much as it was for Arthur. He kind of liked that thought, even if the reality of it, Arthur being able to look right down at his arsehole, was making the back of his neck heat up.

"I did it while thinking about you doing it," he confessed, hoping that this would put Arthur more in a mindset of getting this done. He hadn't anticipated how husky his voice would sound, but he was horny as hell, and potential embarrassment was fast melting in the face of this heat.

"Really?" Arthur sounded almost as husky and definitely as turned on. "I never.... I mean, I thought about you, too, while I was getting off. But I never thought about doing _this_ to myself...."

Eames managed to not leap out of his skin when Arthur ran what he was reasonably certain was two fingers down the crease of his arse, slicking a stripe of lotion between the cheeks, but not quite reaching the spot where he wanted it.

"I've always liked a bit of arse play," Eames said, and he was pretty sure the arousal clear to read in his voice kept his tone from being too conversational. "Even before I lost my cherry. Just, you know, putting that out there."

"Duly noted," Arthur replied and he said it so breathlessly that it in no way sounded analytical, or even conversational. Eames could envision the intent look on his face as he set about his task, his bangs falling in his eyes because they needed a trim -- _he_ said; Eames thought they looked perfect -- his thick lashes dusting bright pink cheeks as he lowered his gaze to watch what he was doing. Maybe he was even biting his lip, as a brief silence followed his last declaration and his fingers moved with more confidence and deliberation over the pucker of Eames' anus.

Saying 'atta boy' would only cause Arthur to freeze up, Eames was sure, so he refrained, even though he was very tempted. He did tilt his hips up and back a little, as though in offering, and muffled a little sound of pleasure into his arms.

"Hang on," Arthur rasped, and then, smooth as silk over silk, his forefinger slid right on inside of Eames. "Oh," he gasped, as though he had been the one penetrated. "That's... so tight, Eames. I mean, I knew that, objectively, but... how am I supposed to fit my dick in there?"

"That's what the stretching is for," Eames informed him, turning his face to the side so that he could be sure Arthur would hear him.

"It's going to take a while," Arthur said, and he sounded equal parts turned on, technical, and anxious. Just the perfect combination for this precise moment in time, Eames thought fondly, though he hoped that Arthur would get over the anxiety part quickly.

"It's really not as bad as you think, once you really get going," he assured Arthur.

"Mm." Arthur didn't really reply, but he did pull his finger out, then carefully slid two in.

Eames drew in a slow, deep breath, relaxing into the delicious penetration. It was _so_ much better when someone else did it.... Especially when it was Arthur, and Eames knew that his bum was being breached by those beautiful, elegant fingers that he'd been admiring almost since the first time Arthur had held out his hand for Eames in shake when they had met each other at the airport.

"Don't you think I'd have a better angle for this if you rolled over?" Arthur asked, after a few moments of experimentally sliding his fingers in and out in a manner that made the hairs on Eames' body rise. "And then I could tug you off with my free hand. Or suck you. But you'll have to pick, because once I get lotion on your dick, I'm not putting it in my mouth."

Eames couldn't help chuckling. "So pragmatic, Arthur," he said, drawing up one leg and shifting to roll over, trusting Arthur to get out of his way. All of this movement meant that Arthur's fingers left his arse, which wasn't exactly pleasing, but he knew it was for a good cause. "That's one of the things I love about you."

Arthur met his gaze steadily as Eames got settled on his back. He looked... thoughtful. Eames reflected that he hadn't actually said that he _loved Arthur_ , but if he had, he wouldn't regret it. And it was lovely to see that Arthur didn't look freaked out any longer at the idea of putting his fingers inside Eames.

"So," Arthur said, and Eames had absolutely zero idea what might come out of his mouth next. He could feel his stomach muscles tightening, but he thought he kept his reaction from showing in his face or body otherwise.

"Hand job or blowjob?" Arthur finished, his eyes dark and steamy, one corner of his mouth quirking up. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it was close, and he looked strangely affectionate. He was still pink, but by this point Eames was pretty sure that it was entirely from sexual arousal.

He stuck out his lower lip. Arthur's mouth looked so beautiful that Eames wanted a blow, and Arthur had certainly been growing increasingly adept at it, as they both kept practicing. He was clearly learning new techniques from Eames, but he was also developing his own tricks. On the other hand, so to speak, if Eames asked for a hand job, Arthur would be better able to concentrate on the fingers he had in Eames' arse....

That was what decided Eames. "Hand job," he said. He considered letting Arthur know how incredibly sexy he found his hands to be, but then he was too busy watching Arthur squeeze more lotion into his palm, anointing his fingers, that adorable little crease of concentration between his brows. Eames spread his legs, making sure to lift his bum a little off the bed, and reached down to palm his hard-on a little, just to try and relieve some of the pressure that was growing in his groin.

"Hey, cut that out," Arthur commanded, smoothly moving his hand down underneath Eames' balls and sliding his fingers into him with no hesitation. He batted Eames' hand away and took hold of his cock, his hand warm and slick with the lotion, moving languidly over the shaft, thumbing the base of his head through his foreskin, then tightening his grip.

"Try... try upping it to three fingers," Eames instructed breathlessly. He didn't know what to do with his own hands, so he was clutching uselessly at the sheets beneath him, but most of his attention was focused on watching everything Arthur was doing, savouring every emotion that crossed his face.

Before obeying, Arthur bent to kiss the tip of Eames' cock, where he hadn't yet rubbed any lotion. He tugged the foreskin down a little, ran the flat of his tongue over the pre-come oozing from the slit, then straightened back up, smirking at Eames as he added another lubricated finger.

"Ooh," Eames gasped, bowing into the sensation, his head shifting restlessly on the pillow behind his head. "Yeah...."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, and he was almost absently tugging at Eames' cock, both of them more focused on the fingers in Eames' arse. "It's so tight...."

"Does it hurt your fingers?" Eames asked breathlessly, because as much as he'd like to let go, to give himself over to the pleasure that Arthur was working out of him with both hands, he wanted to make sure that Arthur was enjoying this too.

"Not really," Arthur replied, which wasn't entirely reassuring. "It pinches, just a little... but I'm more concerned about you."

"Don't be," Eames hastened to tell him. "God, Arthur, I'm loving this."

"Yeah?" Arthur grinned at him, and every last shred of anxiety or self consciousness had left him as he began working both his hands more vigorously, causing Eames to groan and wiggle against the bed in a completely undignified manner, his heels digging into the mattress, his fingers clutching at the sheets.

There was a part of Eames that was greatly impressed by the talent Arthur was displaying, in keeping each of his hands moving independently of one another, but both working to maximize his pleasure. But mostly, he was being engulfed by this rising pleasure, and before too long he let every other consideration slip away, entirely taken by the feeling of Arthur's fingers filling him up, moving slick in and out of his arse, Arthur's hand gripping his cock and mercilessly stripping his orgasm up from his balls, his thumb sweeping at unpredictable intervals across the tip, the pad pressing roughly but oh, so good at the delicate flesh.

Arthur was a master at the hand job, Eames thought gleefully, albeit a bit disjointedly. It was true that nearly any teenage boy would have a pretty good grasp of the techniques, from time spent jerking himself off. But Arthur took it several more levels. When he gave Eames a hand job, Eames could tell without question that all of Arthur's attention was on what he was doing, and who he was doing it with.

And, not to mention, he had some skills that Eames didn't think even he could match, much less duplicate. Maybe someday he would get as good as Arthur... but he wouldn't cry if he didn't. Why would he need his own hand anymore, when he had the use of both of Arthur's? No more twisting himself into awkward positions in order to get his own fingers in his arse while masturbating. And once they got to the point that Eames was ready and Arthur was willing to put his _cock_ inside of Eames instead of his fingers....

Just the thought of that brought Eames that much closer to climax. Add to this the intense, focused look on Arthur's darling face and the way he had begun crooking his fingers without prompting, tantalizingly close to Eames' prostate, even though Eames certainly hadn't instructed him in this portion of the fingering, and Eames was coming all over his belly and Arthur's other hand before he could even think to warn the other boy.

He thought he might have yelped, but it felt as though he was exploding from the outside inward, all of his senses flooded with the pure pleasure that had built to an incredibly satisfying crescendo, and so he couldn't be sure what his mouth might have done. At least he was certain that he hadn't said anything untoward, considering that he couldn't have articulated one complete thought if he had tried.

Arthur milked him through it, his hand moving smoothly over the shaft of Eames' cock, just as firmly but not as tightly. He had withdrawn his other hand, but Eames couldn't blame him for that. With as tightly as he had clenched his arse cheeks together when he had come, he might have managed to hurt Arthur if he hadn't retrieved his fingers.

As Eames shuddered back to awareness, still filled with the golden glowing warmth of repletion, he could see Arthur smirking down at him. He looked as satisfied as Eames felt, and considering that Eames was the only one of the two of them who had come, this made him just aces in Eames' book.

"That was fun," Arthur told him as Eames struggled to recover his breath enough to speak. Arthur's hand wandered over the planes of Eames' stomach, rubbing lotion and jizz all over his torso, and it should have been gross, and it kind of was, but mostly it was hot. Although that might have had more to do with the fierce look of possessiveness and arousal that heated Arthur's dark brown eyes from within.

"Just... just give me a moment," Eames managed to gasp out, twitching one hand. He'd meant to raise it, but his body was refusing to obey his directives for the moment, and he felt so damned good that it was hard to resent it.

"So I must have done pretty well," Arthur murmured, his smirk widening and growing more wicked. He grabbed Eames' top sheet, wiping both his hands, then swiping the corner across Eames' stomach.

"Hey," Eames managed, slurring the words out. "Cut that out."

"We're sleeping in my bed tonight, remember?" Arthur laughed at him. It was almost as though his own cock wasn't hard and red, jutting up between his thighs, completely untouched and completely unsatisfied. Eames intended to remedy that, in just one moment.

"Yeah, yeah." He actually had forgotten, but, hell, he was lucky he could remember his own name after the orgasm that Arthur had just given him. His cock and his arsehole were both warm and sensitive, and he just felt _good_ all over. Now it was well and past time for him to make sure Arthur felt the same way. "Get your arse up here," he demanded.

Arthur completely misunderstood and crawled up to kiss Eames soundly and enthusiastically. Not that Eames had any problem with this, but he had a decidedly more lecherous use intended for his lips in just a moment. His own lips, that was. Arthur had done plenty for the night. Or at least for this particular chunk of it.

"That was sweet," he murmured as Arthur broke the kiss, reaching up to brush his knuckles against one sharp cheekbone. Arthur was so hot and sweaty that he felt as though he had a fever, but Eames knew better. It was unfettered sexual stimulation, and he was going to do something about effecting a resolution. It was the least he could do after the glorious hand job Arthur had just given him.

"But not what I had in mind," he continued, dragging the pad of his thumb over Arthur's lower lip. He could spend hours just kissing Arthur, but not now. Not when Arthur _had_ to be aching, literally, to get off in turn. Eames wouldn't have been any kind of a gentleman if he had just left Arthur -- and Arthur's erection -- hanging like this.

Arthur kissed him once more, a little more roughly, then he flopped down beside Eames. It was clear that he knew exactly what Eames had in mind, and Eames grinned as he rolled over and scooted down, lying on his side between Arthur's legs, because if he rested on his stomach his overly sensitized cock would have been pressed to closely to the mattress, and if he'd knelt, that would have opened his lotion-moist bum hole to the air, which would have chilled him, as well as just feeling plainly uncomfortable.

Arthur didn't seem to mind Eames' slightly awkward placing, but when Eames got his hands on that beautiful cock and sucked it without hesitation into his mouth, he doubted Arthur cared about anything outside of that.

Arthur's cock filled Eames up much the way his fingers had; only completely differently, seeing as it was in his mouth, not his bum. Eames knew Arthur wasn't going to last long, but he still did his best to draw the most pleasure out of Arthur that he could. A good blowjob required a certain amount of finesse, and Eames gave _the best_ blowjobs.

As expected, Arthur did not last long, but Eames didn't take this to heart. In fact, he considered it something of a personal accomplishment, that the fact of Arthur fingering him and the sight of him coming was enough to get Arthur so close.

A few moments of tight suction, some bobbing that drove the head of Arthur's cock down his throat, and Arthur was pulling his hair so hard it brought tears to his eyes, and babbling out something that was either a garbled warning, or an unfettered expression of appreciation for Eames' talented mouth. Whichever it was, Eames didn't let up, kept sucking. Then Arthur was spilling into his mouth, and Eames reflected that his method of clean-up was a lot neater than using the corner of a sheet.

Once Arthur was spent, Eames laid off his cock, because if it was half as sensitive as his own, any further stimulation would be more torture than pleasure. He managed to wriggle up so that he and Arthur were pressed close, huddled against the pillows, arms around one another, lips lazily drifting together and apart again.

"I want...."

Eames shifted back enough to meet Arthur's gaze, except Arthur wasn't looking at him. His cheeks and ears were pink, and Eames quirked a brow. "What is it you want, darling?" he asked.

"Next time I think I want you to... you know...."

"To what?" Eames prompted despite the fact that he thought he knew what Arthur was asking, because sometimes he could be a right fucker and because he wanted to hear Arthur say it. Aloud.

"I want you to put your fingers... in...." Arthur trailed away, evidently unable to finish his sentence. Or to talk about something he had just done. Not that Eames couldn't understand and sympathize.

"All right," he agreed, rather than forcing Arthur to complete his sentence. "I was going to suggest that anyway." He leaned in and kissed Arthur again, soft and gentle. "I only said you should fuck me first, not that I wouldn't want a crack at your fine rear end shortly after that."

"Really, Eames?" Arthur asked, and Eames wasn't sure of the cause of his dry tone of voice, but he was reasonably certain that Arthur wasn't upset with him.

"I could hardly deny you the very same pleasure that you just gave me," Eames added, reaching down and groping the arse in question. It was very fine. "Though we're going to start with one and work up to two. I had you use three fingers right quick because my arse is used to such treatment."

"And one of us should buy some real lube, right?" Arthur was clearly thinking things through more quickly than Eames was. Not that he was offended by this in the least. "And... condoms?"

Eames thought that over. "Well, I used 'em when I-- Before." He could tell Arthur didn't like the reference from the way he stiffened slightly, but it was like the reality of Eames' father; it was something that had happened in his life, and ignoring it wasn't going to change that. "And you... haven't... right?"

"Right," Arthur said, the word a bit muffled. He was trying hard to appear as though this part of the conversation wasn't bothering him, but he was failing, so Eames hastened to bring it to a conclusion.

"Well, rubbers would help us to save on mess. But I don't think we really _need_ them. You're not going to knock me up. How about you get some, and we'll use 'em or not, as we see fit."

"Oh, so _I'm_ getting them?" Arthur asked archly, his mood lightening considerably. Eames was glad of this, whatever the cause.

"Well, you're the one with the emergency credit card...."

"Eames!" Arthur sat up and punched Eames in the upper arm, harder than he thought his flippant suggestion warranted. "I am _not_ buying condoms and lube on the card my Dad gave me! He checks to see what my purchases were when the bill comes in!"

Eames couldn't help laughing. "What? You think he wouldn't be happy you were getting laid?"

"You're incorrigible," Arthur declared again, but with as much affection as annoyance in his voice. He shoved Eames over on his back and made to crawl over him toward the edge of the bed, but then he paused when he was straddling Eames, on hands and knees above him. He looked down at him seriously. "Thank you for suggesting... what we just did," he said, his eyes steady and his face solemn. "I really... I liked it. I liked doing that to you. For you. I'm looking forward to you doing it for me, and even more, to us fucking each other."

Eames reached for Arthur, intent on tugging him down into a jizz and lotion coated hug, but Arthur was gone in a flicker, escaping off the bed untainted.

"Come on," he said, offering Eames his hand. "Let's get you into the bathroom. We'll wipe you down with a wet washcloth."

"Oh, Arthur, you say the most romantic things," Eames cooed, allowing Arthur to haul him up off the bed.

"Well, how about after that, once we're back in our pyjamas, we have some cocoa and brownies in the den, cuddling in front of the Christmas tree," Arthur suggested. "Is that romantic enough for you?"

"That sounds jut about right," Eames said, sneaking a quick kiss.

And so that was what they did, and it really was... it really was perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur had good intentions, but what really happened was that he ended up panicking the next morning and just calling Ariadne, rather than texting or emailing her.

"Hey, Arthur," she greeted when she picked up. "Have you guys baptized every room in the house yet?"

"Bite your tongue," he instructed tartly, knowing that his face had just gone brick red. And Eames, the bastard, turned from where he was making the pancakes, _grinning_ at Arthur like he knew what Ariadne had said. Hell, he would have been grinning like that even if he _had_ heard.

"Listen, Ariadne," Arthur said urgently, deciding to let her naughty sexual innuendo slide, because honestly he had no idea how to deal with it. And, well, she wasn't wrong. "You know you can't tell anyone, right? Even Dom and Mal."

He knew that Eames was frowning down into the pancake batter, but they had already discussed this and agreed that no one could know. Well, anyone other than Ariadne, obviously, since she had already figured it out. Hell, she'd been the one to push Arthur into making the first move. But everyone else....

"Well, _duh_ ," Ariadne said scathingly. "What do you think I am; a moron? You guys are stepbrothers. That's not as kinky as real brothers, but it's still socially taboo. Of course, that just makes it hotter. And way more convenient, am I right?"

"Ariadne, shut up!" Arthur squeaked, feeling his entire face heat up, all the way to the tips of his ears and down his neck. It was one thing for he and Eames to talk about this, but it was another thing entirely for Ariadne to bring it up. And to sound so titillated and delighted by it all.

"That's fine," Ariadne said placidly, not cowed in the slightest. "I know I'm right. And for the record, now that you're not being self-cockblocking idiots, you guys are _so cute_ together!"

"You haven't even seen us together yet," Arthur felt the need to point out.

"I have a good imagination," Ariadne came back with, and Arthur didn't care for her smug and salacious tone of voice.

"Anyway," he said, maybe a little overly loudly. He toned it down as he continued. "You're aware of the need to keep this secret. And no 'accidentally' slipping while talking to Mal. You _know_ she'd tell Dom, and he's just about the lousiest person at keeping a secret that I know."

"Yeah, yeah," Ariadne said. Then it sounded as though she snickered. "We'll see how long it takes Mal to guess. I won't breathe a word, but you guys couldn't control the way you looked at each other _before_. There's no chance you're going to keep it under wraps forever. At least not around the people who know you well and care about you."

Arthur grimaced, even though he knew that she was right.

"It's not as though Dom and Mal have been spending much time hanging around with us lately," he felt compelled to point out. And it was strange and pleasant not to feel at all bitter over this fact. He really and truly was over them both. Well, in Eames he had something far better than either of them ever could have been, he thought. No offense to his former crushes, but Eames was a reality that he would hold close and treasure forever.

"That's because you and Eames have been so exclusivist," Ariadne informed him. "Which, by the way, is not suspicious at all."

Arthur frowned. "Have we been leaving you out?" he asked, worried that they had inadvertently hurt Ariadne's feelings, though she had seemed cheerful and friendly enough in the days leading up to Christmas.

"Not me, no," she replied, and she sounded so sure that he felt his anxiety ease. "And when I'm not with you guys I hang out with Dom and Mal, or with other people. I _do_ have a social life outside you two, no matter how much I adore you both."

"That's good," Arthur sighed, relieved. "Just tell me if I'm being a dick, though. You know I have trouble telling sometimes."

"Arthur, when have I ever had trouble telling you when you're being a dick?" Ariadne asked, and he could tell she was smiling as she said it.

"You have a point." He helped himself to some more coffee, pausing on the way there to run his hand along the tight swell of Eames' rear. He'd let Eames take over breakfast duties this morning because he knew that Eames liked doing some of the cooking, and Eames' desires outweighed Arthur's need for control -- at least when he caught himself -- and also because it gave him a chance to talk to Ariadne on the phone.

Eames turned and claimed a kiss. He looked sleepy but contented, didn't seem overly disturbed by the fact that Arthur had called Ariadne specifically to tell her not to blab about the two of them. Of course, Eames was smart, smarter than he tended to show, and he knew as well as Arthur did that they needed to be discrete.

"So, speaking of socializing," Arthur segued, pouring one-handed. "We were thinking of going ice skating this afternoon. Did you want to join us? If you don't have any plans, that is...."

"I'd love to," Ariadne responded right away, and she sounded suitably enthusiastic. "I know you guys need time alone together now that you've admitted your feelings for each other, and I'm totally cool with that, but I miss you both. It'd be awesome to see you today!"

"Great," Arthur grinned. Eames turned and raised one brow at him, pointing down at the frying pan. Arthur took this to mean that this was the last one. "I've got to go now; there's hot pancakes to eat. But we'll meet at the rink at... say, one?"

"See you then!" Ariadne said, then they said their goodbyes and hung up.

"Ariadne's skating with us," he told Eames. "I hope you don't mind that I invited her."

"Not at all," Eames said, setting Arthur's faint anxiety to rest. He brought over a plate of pancakes, that had been keeping warm in the oven, then went back for the sausages he'd also prepared. "I still need to thank her for that most opportune text she sent you."

Arthur was extremely pleased to find that Eames had had the forethought to heat up the maple syrup in a pot of water on the stovetop. Pouring cold syrup on hot pancakes was always something of a letdown. And as he ate, he resolved to let Eames do more of the cooking from here on out. Not only did it so obviously make Eames happy, but he really was good at it.

"This is great," he verbalized, because Eames always remembered to let Arthur know he appreciated the meals that Arthur made, and it would have been poor manners not to return the favor. Especially when it was true.

"Thanks," Eames mumbled into his mug, his cheeks pinking as they usually did when someone paid him a compliment. It was really cute, Arthur mused, but it also hurt him a little to see. Eames really ought to have more self confidence. He was an amazing guy, with talent, intelligence, and a kind heart. Not to mention how ridiculously good looking he was. And, now Arthur knew, he was great in bed too.

Instead of articulating this, since that would only embarrass Eames more, Arthur changed the subject to what they were going to wear to the skating rink. "I'm not saying we should color coordinate," he argued when Eames looked at him as though he was crazy. "I just don't want to clash."

Eames chuckled and shook his head, but he humored Arthur and they discussed clothing for a while, in between bites of pancake and sausage soaked in maple syrup. It was a delicious breakfast, in more ways than one, Arthur thought, gazing across the table at Eames. His hair was a wild mess, mostly because Arthur's fingers had been buried in it less than an hour ago, and there was a streak of dried pancake batter on one sharp cheekbone. His lips were still ruddy from sucking on Arthur's dick, and now they were slick with sausage grease as well. Arthur was never going to get tired of looking at Eames' mouth, he thought, and now he _knew_ what Eames could do with those lips, didn't have to just imagine it.

"We should have lunch out before we hit the rink," he suggested, mopping up extra syrup with his last sausage. He was pleasantly full, and was looking forward to spending a few hours cuddling with Eames before they had to start getting ready.

"Why, Arthur, are you asking me out on a date?" Eames asked, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, his full lips turning up at the corners.

Arthur tried to give Eames a disapproving glare, but he couldn't quite manage it when he was worried about hurting Eames' feelings. The last thing he wanted was to cause Eames to feel rejected in any way, for any reason.

"Eames, you know that...."

"I know," Eames said, pulling a sour face. "And you're right. Besides, you already know I'm willing to put out, so there's no need to woo me." He winked at Arthur, then rose, grabbing both their plates and carrying them over to the sink.

Arthur sat there and chewed on his lower lip. Eames had sounded flippant, and there was no reason to think he wasn't okay with the situation, but even if he hadn't completely meant the words he'd said, he _had_ said them.

Standing, Arthur stepped up behind Eames, sliding his arms around his waist. "Just leave the dishes, I'll get them later," he said, nuzzling the side of Eames' neck. "Come with me into the bedroom."

"Really, Arthur?" Eames didn't sound opposed to the idea. "We just left it a short time ago."

Arthur hooked his chin over Eames' shoulder, tightening his arms. "I know. But I want to just hold you for a while. I know we can't behave like a couple in public, so we need to get it out of our system now, as much as we can. That is, if you're okay with that...."

"More than okay with it," Eames murmured, turning within the circle of Arthur's arms and closing his own around Arthur in turn. "You have the best ideas. You know that, right?"

"Generally speaking," Arthur said, leaning in for a kiss. "Though waiting until we were in my grandparents' basement to let you know how I felt wasn't exactly a shining moment."

Eames laughed lightly. "Well, you can lay just as much blame on me as you're willing to take on yourself," he offered. "Though I maintain that you have impeccable timing, seeing as we now have almost all of winter break to enjoy one another's company. Alone together."

Arthur smirked. "Well, that's thanks in part to the cruise our parents are on. But, yeah, it definitely worked out."

"So let's go to the bedroom, then," Eames said, breaking away with clear reluctance. But once they reached the bedroom and the bed, he'd be tugging Arthur close again, and Arthur would be holding Eames to him, so it was all right.

"Let's go," Arthur echoed, and they went.

***

"You guys match!" Ariadne greeted them with and Eames couldn't help rolling his eyes, even though he didn't really mean it. Arthur grinned sheepishly over at him over Ariadne's head as she engulfed him in a tight pint-sized hug.

"We didn't coordinate," Arthur protested. "We just don't clash."

"You're both in hunter green and grey with touches of black," Ariadne declared, pulling free of Arthur and embracing Eames in turn. "You totally match and it's completely adorable!"

"Yes, because every teenage boy wants to be called adorable," Eames said dryly.

Ariadne reached up and pinched his cheeks. "I've missed you too," she told him cheerfully as he squawked and tried to fend her off.

"Thanks," he replied, fighting the urge to pat her on the head, because that never ended well. And, besides, he _owed_ her. "And thank you for a particular text you sent Arthur," he said, giving her an honest smile.

She smiled back, brows arched. "Well, as soon as I realized that Arthur thought you and I were crushing on each other, I figured something had to be done," she told him.

"What?" Eames stared at Arthur incredulously, watching as Arthur's face turned red. "You never told me that part of it," he said, grinning so widely his face ached, so amused he was hard put not to laugh. He restrained himself, though, because he knew it would only offend Arthur. "Did you really think that I might have feelings for a girl?" He glanced down at Ariadne. "Uh, no offense."

She shrugged, not seeming fazed in the least. "Eames, you're gay. I know that you're no more likely to be attracted to me than I would be to be attracted to a goat." She paused, her face twisting. "And I just compared myself to a goat, and heterosexuality to bestiality. I think I just offended _myself_!"

And, honestly, who could help laughing in the face of this sally? Both Arthur and Eames cracked up, and Ariadne wasn't far behind, giggling helplessly into her gloved hands.

She looked quite a treat as well, even though Eames wasn't inclined that way. She had on crimson and brown, and her eyes were bright, her nose and cheeks pink. She was wearing a knitted hat with a bobble on top, and her gloves matched.

Eames still thought that she and Arthur would have made a very handsome couple, aesthetically speaking, but Arthur was his, his, _his_ now, and that was all there was to that.

A part of Eames was glad that Arthur's clothing matched his instead of Ariadne's, even though they couldn't openly declare themselves to be a couple. And he understood all the reasons for that and totally agreed with them, but that didn't mean he had to like it. At least he could be fairly certain that Arthur didn't like it any more than he did.

"We should get inside," Arthur suggested, gesturing toward the skating rink. "It's warmer inside. Well, a little. Until we get out onto the ice."

And so they headed inside. Eames stuck his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation of hooking his arm through Arthur's. And he wondered whether Arthur was doing the same, as he saw him stuffing his hands inside his coat.

"So, Eames, are you any good at skating?" Ariadne asked, as Arthur paid their way in. Eames had meant to pay since this trip had been his idea, but Arthur reached the cashier before Eames did, thanks to Ariadne's distracting query. Eames made a mental note to pay for whatever their next activity was. Or maybe he should be the one to purchase the rubbers and lube. He was sure Arthur would appreciate that more than, say, tickets to a movie or something.

"None whatsoever," Eames replied candidly to Ariadne's question. He grinned sheepishly. "I'm sure you and Arthur will be skating rings around me out there."

Arthur snorted. "Don't count on that. I'll be lucky if I don't fall on my ass."

"Don't do that," Eames objected, concerned. That would put a bit of a damper on all the arse-grabbing that he and Arthur both enjoyed doing so much. Hell, he probably should have thought of that before he'd suggested this outing. It was too late now, though. They were here, Arthur had paid, and so they were committed.

From the way Ariadne's eyes were sparkling, she clearly had several things she could have said to that, if discretion and common sense hadn't prevented her. Of course, Eames felt the same way. It was hard to keep a rein on his tongue, but he knew it was necessary.

"Well, I'm a whiz on any kinds of skates," Ariadne declared, grinning cheerfully.

"Yeah," Arthur agreed. "Weren't you thinking of lying about your age to join the local women's roller derby last summer?"

Ariadne groaned. "Oh, right, I forgot you knew about that. Yeah, they required an ID and I didn't have my fake yet. Although, I'm pretty sure that even when I _am_ eighteen I'm still going to look underage."

She glanced down at herself so despairingly that Eames had to sling an arm around her and give her a little squeeze. It was true that she was a tiny slip of a girl, and she was probably correct, but that was no reason for her to get down on herself.

"You're exquisite," he informed her earnestly. "Don't wish to be any different than you are."

Ariadne was blushing, and Eames was a little afraid that Arthur might feel jealous, albeit completely needlessly. But Arthur was smarter than that, and he had a soft spot for Ariadne as well.

"I hate the idea of you participating in a roller derby," Arthur informed Ariadne seriously. "I'd be so worried the whole time that someone would break you in half."

"I'm not so feminine," Ariadne started, and before she could continue, Arthur was agreeing with her.

"No, you're generally not." She reached out and smacked him in the chest. "Ow! See? Case in point. But you _are_ tiny and delicate," he forged onward, rubbing where she had struck him.

"Hmph." She didn't seem placated, but they were wasting time, so she made her way to a bench, in order to change into her skates. Eames was willing to bet just about anything that she'd had to get a child's large instead of an adult size.

"Way to defend my honour," Arthur groused at Eames.

"What was I supposed to do?" he asked, grinning crookedly. "Challenge Ariadne to a duel? Then you'd be compelled to defend _her_ honour, and then we'd have a huge sticky mess."

"As though I'd ever choose Ariadne over you," Arthur said in a low voice. His eyes were intent on Eames' and he didn't seem to be joking.

"You know, guys," Ariadne said, equally softly, popping up beside them, suddenly several millimeters taller, "You're all over me about keeping your secret, but then you start _looking_ at each other like that...."

Arthur and Eames both flushed, neither of them asking her to clarify what she had meant by _"that"_.

"Maybe we should get our skates on and get on the ice," Arthur suggested.

"An excellent idea," Eames responded. Ariadne had a point, but he could hardly help the way he looked at Arthur. With the way he felt about him, it was entirely beyond his control. And he certainly wasn't going to _not_ look at Arthur.

"It's not that you two aren't cute," Ariadne whispered to Eames as Arthur suited actions to words and went to put on his skates. "You're insanely cute. But you should maybe try to look less as though you want to suck each other off or propose marriage in a public place."

Eames could feel that he was bright red but he didn't dare to respond in kind. Instead, he shook his head. "I don't know _how_ Arthur could ever have inferred that you lack femininity. Ow!"

That last was when she hit him, in just about the same place she had hit Arthur.

"See?" Eames said, grinning at her. "Downright Amazonian you are. I don't see how Arthur could ever have referred to you as delicate."

"Just you wait until we get out on the ice," she told him darkly. "Then I'll show you who's delicate."

"No body checking, Ariadne," Arthur warned, joining them in time to hear the last of their conversation. "Remember when you got us kicked out of the roller skating rink on my eighth birthday?"

"I remember. I remember because you will never let me forget," Ariadne growled. Then she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll be good."

She made her way out onto the ice, and seeing her gliding like a swan across a lake, Eames despaired.

"Try not to bruise yourself too badly," Arthur told Eames, looking concerned.

"Right back at you," Eames replied. Because he was as invested in the state of Arthur's arse as Arthur was in the state of his.

Eames changed into his ice skates and he and Arthur ventured out onto the ice. Neither of them was as bad as they had anticipated or expected, and Ariadne did _not_ body check anyone. Eames admired her restraint.

Overall, it was a completely pleasant experience and Eames was glad that he had suggested it.

***

Once they'd had their fill of ice skating, Ariadne offered to treat them to hot drinks and pastries at the local coffee shop.

"Unless you've got to rush home for any reason," she added, with a complete lack of innuendo that deeply impressed Arthur. He was glad that Ariadne was the one who knew their secret.

"No, we're good," he replied, shaking his head. He hoped Eames wouldn't mind Arthur answering for them both, but they had plenty of time ahead of them, and he knew they both liked hanging out with Ariadne.

Eames was nodding. "Lead the way, little Amazon," he intoned, gesturing grandly.

"Oh, that nickname had better not stick," Ariadne said fiercely, glaring at Eames. Arthur had to admit that it kind of fit... though he could certainly understand her annoyance.

"I shan't speak the word around Dom, then," Eames vowed, sweeping his fingers across his mouth as though to zip his lips together. That just called Arthur's attention to them, and he felt himself growing a little hard inside his pants, so he had to look away, even though he didn't really want to.

"You won't if you know what's good for you," Ariadne informed him darkly. "In fact, don't use it from here on out, okay?"

"I shall do my best to control my errant tongue," Eames sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, you do that," Ariadne replied while Arthur fought the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. "Because otherwise there's no telling what might happen to it. And if anything were to happen to it, Arthur would be dreadfully distraught."

Evidently when there was no one around to hear their banter, all bets were off.

"And you said _I_ was incorrigible," Eames turned to Arthur to say, his eyes flashing with good humor. Arthur was glad to see it. He loved it when Eames was happy, and if Ariadne was a part of making that happen, that was perfectly okay with him. After all, he liked it when Ariadne was happy too. When they were both happy, he could hardly help but be happy himself; especially now that he realized there was no chance at all of them becoming a couple.

"You are," he verified. "And so is she. That's why it's such a bad idea to get you two together."

"And yet here we are, both of us your best friends," Ariadne said, looping her arm through Arthur's and dragging him toward the coffee shop. "You can't escape us."

"I wouldn't try," Arthur declared earnestly. He wouldn't call Eames his best friend, but he wasn't sure what label to put on him. He was Arthur's stepbrother, but there was so much more to it than that. He wasn't sure he could call Eames his lover or boyfriend, even though they were definitely what most people would call lovers by this point. So maybe "best friend" was an acceptable way to put it... for now. Especially when they were in public, even if there was no one around to hear them talking.

The sidewalks had been mostly empty as they had walked to the coffee shop, but inside the building, it was packed. There was nowhere left to sit, so they bought their drinks and Ariadne's scone, then made their way to the Mall, which wasn't too much further.

"My ankles are a little sore," Eames said as they all sat together at a bench near the Mall's Business Offices. The rest of the place was pretty crowded, but their corner was strategically deserted.

"Mine too," Arthur admitted.

"Pussies," Ariadne smirked, stretching out a little booted foot and twisting it at the ankle to show them up. She was sitting between the two of them, but neither of them minded, since the point of being here was to spend time with her. And, besides, she was small enough that they could almost look at each other over her head. Well, not really. But close to it.

"I just... have nothing to say to that," Eames rumbled, blinking rapidly.

Arthur hid his grin behind his cup.

"So, I was thinking, you guys," Ariadne said, breaking off a chunk of scone and popping it in her mouth. "And feel free to tell me no, because this might be a horrible idea, but I was thinking that if you liked, I could be a beard for one of you."

"A what?" Eames asked, brows rising. Arthur wasn't sure if it was the language barrier or if Eames just hadn't heard the phrase before.

"She's offering to be a faux girlfriend for one of us," he explained. He honestly had no idea how he felt about that, so he held off responding until he heard what Eames thought.

"Oh." Eames lips pursed in a circle and Arthur swallowed tightly. Then Eames stuck his lower lip out in that thinking pout that he sometimes did, and Arthur bit his own lower lip. Dammit, Eames shouldn't look so fuckable in public!

"I don't know about that," Eames said, looking pensive. Though evidently not for the reason Arthur would have expected, he realized, as Eames continued. "What if you were to fall in love with someone else, Ariadne?"

Ariadne was already shaking her head, even before Eames finished asking the question. "All the guys in school are douches," she declared seriously. "Except for you two and Dom. And all of you are taken, and one of you is gay." She tilted her head to the side and set down her scone in her lap in order to reach over and pat Eames' thigh. "Maybe I should pretend to date Arthur then. If you guys want me to."

Arthur was really a little bemused by the fact that Ariadne had pointed out that Eames was gay _twice_ today. She'd never done so before, when it might have actually _helped_. Well, maybe not. There would still have been other things standing in the way of him sharing his feelings with Eames. Like the fact that they were stepbrothers. And the fact that he hadn't even known Eames was interested in him until Ariadne had pointed it out to him.

"Arthur?" Eames was peering at him. "What do you think?"

Arthur switched tracks and thought both hard and fast. "I don't know. It just seems... kind of.... It doesn't seem like it'd be fair to you, Eames."

"It's a sound idea," Eames said slowly. "But not if...."

Ariadne shook her head. "Guys. I didn't mean to start a battle of _who can feel more guilty or jealous_. If that's what this is going to turn into, I retract the offer. I mean, God knows I shouldn't be butting in when you've only been together for a couple of days or so. And school doesn't start back up for two more weeks."

"Let us think about it and discuss it," Eames said, speaking to Ariadne but meeting Arthur's gaze steadily.

Arthur nodded. "It's not a bad idea," he told her. "I'm not sure we could pull it off, but it might be something to try some time in the next year and a half or so."

Eames frowned a little at the reminder of how long it was going to be before they left home for college, but he was nodding. "It might at that. But what happens if someone moves into town, love? Or you change your opinion of one of the douches already here? People do change, after all."

"Well, then we would just stage an amicable breakup and just go back to being friends, Eames," Ariadne said, speaking with exaggerated patience. "It's not that complicated."

"That doesn't mean we're going to do it," Arthur put in, in case this fact slipped by them. "For one thing, I'm not so sure Dom and Mal would buy it."

"Ooh, that's right," Ariadne grimaced. "Well, Dom might fall for it, but Mal probably wouldn't." She sighed and shrugged. "Well, just think of it as an open offer, guys. I already hang out with you nearly all the time. It wouldn't be such a stretch to say I was going out with one of you. And you might need a smoke screen someday. Hopefully not, but you never know."

"Thanks," Arthur said, but Ariadne wasn't done yet.

"And don't you guys go getting all butthurt and emotional about this, okay? No jealousy or reverse-jealousy."

"What is 'reverse-jealousy' supposed to be?" Eames wanted to know. He didn't look as though he was feeling butthurt, but Arthur could understand why Ariadne was concerned. This was all so new, and Arthur had never really been in a relationship before. Who knew what might throw a monkeywrench in things?

"It's like..." Ariadne waved her hands. "You know, when you get upset because your partner _isn't_ jealous when you think he should be? Something like that?"

"I see," Eames drawled, which was more than Arthur had managed. Arthur was intelligent, he knew he was, but sometimes when he was talking to Ariadne he felt like he spent all of his time trying to catch up. It was probably mostly because she was a girl.

"It's fine," he told Ariadne, because he was pretty sure it was. He and Eames could talk about it later, when they were alone, but he didn't think anyone would get their feelings hurt. They both wanted the same thing, and they had both already agreed to keep Ariadne's idea on the back burner. "And thank you for the offer."

She ate the last of her scone a little pensively. "Well, I didn't want to be presumptuous. But I wanted to help you if I could. And it's not like it'd be any great hardship. We'd just hang out like usual and spread the word. It's not as though we'd be all over PDAs like Dom and Mal."

She pulled a face and Eames and Arthur grinned at each other, the mood lightening.

"Hey, do you want to come over tomorrow and make us some more cookies?" Arthur asked. As much as he and Eames were enjoying having constant sex, it was also nice to take a few hours out of the day to spend time with Ariadne. Just a _few_ hours a day, though. And not _every_ day.

"I can come over and supervise while you guys make cookies," Ariadne said sternly. "I know you're not helpless in the kitchen. Either of you."

"You could... come over and make cookies with us?" Eames ventured, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. And his best was _very_ good.

"All right," she gave in, slurping the last of her hot chocolate. "Only you've got to promise me one thing."

"What's that?" Arthur asked, not suspiciously at all.

"That the kitchen be in a sanitary condition."

"What do you-- Oh!" Arthur glared at her as she beamed at him unabashedly. "Ariadne, that's nasty! What do you think of us?"

Eames quickly reached around and clapped his hand over the bottom of her face, even as she opened her mouth to reply.

"You've _got_ to know better than to give her an opening like that by now, darling," he drawled.

Ariadne tugged Eames' hand away and hooted with laughter. "I can't believe you _ever_ thought he was straight!" she chortled at Arthur, her eyes sparkling.

"I deeply regret ever telling you that," Arthur said sourly. Not that he actually _had_ , but he'd definitely inferred it, seeing as he had thought there'd been romance blooming between her and Eames.

Eames snickered a little, but he restrained himself for the sake of Arthur's dignity. Or at least so Arthur liked to think.

"Yes, the kitchen will be properly sterile," Arthur assured Ariadne a little stiffly. "I don't know what you think we're--" He caught himself. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"I told you, Arthur," she said, her brown eyes still bright with humor. "I've got a very vivid imagination."

"Ugh," Eames commented, which might have seemed a little rude if they'd been talking about anything else, but which seemed to Arthur to be remarkably apt in this application.

"Let me know when you want me to come over, exactly," Ariadne directed. "I won't show up any earlier."

"Thank you," Arthur's sentiment was heartfelt.

"It's as much for me as it is for you," Ariadne said archly.

"I'll text you," Arthur said, because he wasn't sure what would be the best time to have her over; morning, afternoon, or evening. It might have been a bit presumptuous to assume she'd be free any time of the day, but she hadn't indicated otherwise, so Arthur didn't feel too bad about it.

"All right," Ariadne said, sounding cheerful enough. Then she checked her watch. "Oh, shoot, I gotta get going. See you guys some time tomorrow."

She hopped up, then bent and kissed each of them on the cheek in turn.

"I missed you guys while I was in Canada," she told them. "I'm so glad you were willing to spend time with me today."

"We had fun," Eames said, smiling softly at her. "Thanks for meeting us."

"Hope you can hobble home," she said, grinning impishly. "Bye!"

"She is quite a minx," Eames remarked as they watched her make her way over to the escalator. "I thought you two would make an adorable couple, back when we first met."

Arthur frowned a little, but he could hardly blame Eames for that when _he_ had thought that Eames and Ariadne were harboring crushes on one another. Especially when Arthur was actually bisexual, unlike Eames, who evidently wasn't.

"Eames, are you actually gay?" he asked. He'd never dared to before, but it was different when they'd sucked each other off, when Arthur had had his fingers buried in Eames' ass.

"Well, yeah," Eames replied with a shrug and a half-smile. "I don't advertise the fact, but I'm not going to lie about it either."

Arthur chuckled, as much nerves as amusement. "I never did figure that out," he confessed. "Ariadne keeps saying it like it was obvious, but I never did pick up on it. And I _live_ with you."

Eames laughed, completely amused and not at all offended, from what Arthur could tell. "Well, Ariadne is a natural fag hag, so it only figures she have some excellent gaydar," he said, waving an airy hand. "Honestly, though, Arthur. What straight sixteen year old male uses an endearment like 'darling'?"

"Well, your mother uses it," Arthur offered in a sort of lame defense. "And it's not as though you call anyone but me that."

That was something he had noted and it made him feel all warm inside. Ariadne was 'love' and Yusuf was 'mate', but Eames reserved 'darling' for Arthur. Even before they had confessed their desire for one another, Arthur had sort of loved it. It made him feel special. Cherished, in a way. And the fact that Eames didn't seem to notice when he did it, that it wasn't conscious, made it even more poignant. That was why Arthur had never protested it, even before they had begun screwing. And it was why he definitely wouldn't now.

Eames flushed a little. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"No!" Arthur protested, taking a chance and reaching over to grasp at one of Eames' hands. The area was deserted, but someone could happen by at any time. They really ought to head for home, where Arthur could haul Eames into his arms and hold him close, but for right now this was what he would have to settle for. "Eames, I don't mind it. At all."

Eames nodded, still a little pink, and then tipped his head. "Shall we go home?" he suggested, giving Arthur's hand a brief but warm squeeze before drawing it away. Arthur didn't mind, because he was pretty sure that they were both on the same page.

"Home sounds good," he said, rising and grimacing slightly as his thighs and ankles _did_ twinge. He didn't regret skating, though. "And a hot shower."

Eames grinned at him wickedly and rose as well. "We need to make a quick stop at the drug store on the way, though," he said.

"What for?" Arthur asked.

Eames raised a brow and now it was Arthur's turn to blush.

"Oh. Yeah," he said, smirking back at Eames. "I think we can make a stop there."

And so, disposing of their empty cups, they went on their way.

***

"That was fun," Eames drawled, once they were done with a lovely warm shared shower and a nice leisurely shared wank in said shower. "I'm more than happy to be home, though. It's _cold_ out there."

Arthur grinned at him. They were both damp and flushed, wearing comfy clothes and sipping hot chocolate that would probably spoil their dinner as they lounged together in the den. Arthur had insisted that all the sheets needed laundering, so Eames had collected them all and the washing machine was running, out in the utility room between the den and the garage.

With the Christmas tree twinkling at them and the heater making certain that the room remained at a comfortable temperature, with Arthur pressed close beside him and a warm mug in his hands, Eames didn't think things could be much more cozy.

"Yeah, I'm glad Ariadne is coming over here tomorrow," Arthur said. "Instead of having to go out and meet her somewhere. Not that the skating wasn't fun. But maybe next time we go out to do something, we choose a pursuit that doesn't involve so much ice."

Eames nodded. He wasn't slighted in the least, even though the skating had been his idea, because Arthur had a point and a good one at that.

"Are you dreadfully sore?" he asked Arthur, reaching down and palming a tight thigh. It had been one thing, messing around in the shower with hot water cascading over them, keeping their muscles warm and limber, but they weren't in the shower any longer.

"Not so much," Arthur replied, leaning into him and moving to claim a kiss. "You?"

"Not in any way that will impede my physical abilities," Eames assured him with a wicked smirk, sliding his hand upward, until he was cupping Arthur's genitals. They were both soft now, having come fairly recently, but it was nice to just touch without urgency sometimes.

"Good," Arthur said, and it sounded as though he meant it. "Hey, Eames?"

"What is it?" Eames reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through Arthur's hair. It was rapidly drying, curls tempting Eames to tangle his fingers in them. Arthur didn't have wild cowlicks the way Eames did, but his hair did tend to get a little out of control between trims. Not that Eames wanted Arthur to get it cut. He _liked_ it the way it looked now.

Arthur shifted, a little restlessly. But his hand slid down to cover Eames', holding it over his warm, flaccid cock, so that wasn't what was making him uncomfortable.

"Do you think that this next time...." Arthur paused, biting his lower lip. He was flushed, beyond the lingering heat of the shower they had shared, and he was having trouble meeting Eames' gaze. "I know that we agreed the first time it should be you bottoming... but do you think that next time we have sex... you could, you know, start... um... preparing me?"

"Of course," Eames replied immediately, not wanting to leave Arthur hanging. "I would be honoured, darling." He winced internally, but reminded himself that Arthur had said he didn't mind being called that. "Tonight, then? After dinner?"

"Y-yeah." Arthur was breathless, but he was grinning. Eames kissed one of his dimples, feeling Arthur's cheek soft and warm beneath his lips. Arthur's magnificent cock pulsed under Eames' carefully delicate hold, not quite ready to get hard again, but definitely interested. Eames knew the feeling. His own cock was throbbing pleasurably between his thighs, still soft but hot and sensitive.

"Good thing I'm washing the sheets, then," Eames declared. "Lube tends to make more of a mess than lotion, and I intend to use quite a bit, to make sure you enjoy every moment of it."

"Mm. Speaking of which," Arthur murmured, "We really ought to put them in the dryer. They've been done for a few minutes now."

"And I suppose we ought to figure out what we're having for dinner," Eames added. It was nice to share the household tasks like this. Much better than Eames trying to take care of his mother alone, or Arthur insisting on doing everything himself.

Instead of disentangling and rising right away, though, they remained where they were and exchanged a few lazy kisses. Eames flexed his fingers very carefully around Arthur's cock then slid his hand down to cup his balls as well, Arthur's cock nestled in his palm. Arthur's hands tangled in Eames' hair and he tugged lightly. It was really hard to break away, and so neither of them tried. Instead thy kissed some more, as the Christmas tree lights coloured the planes of their faces in multiple hues of the holiday.

Eames was pretty sure that winter break was the best thing in the world. At least for him and Arthur, right now.

***

Arthur set Eames the task of making the beds while he started dinner. Eames had cooked them breakfast after all, and they had split the cost of lunch, even though Arthur had been the one to suggest having it out.

Besides, Arthur was still used to doing most of the cooking, even though he had decided to try to let Eames do more of it from here on out.

Well, he would certainly be happy to let Eames do the majority of the cookie baking when Ariadne came over tomorrow.

Grinning to himself, Arthur dug around in the fridge. As always, Gloria had made sure they were well stocked for the two weeks she and Dad were on their cruise. In fact, Arthur thought they could have fed an army platoon for two weeks out of the refrigerator and pantry. And Dad had left them cash for perishables, because Gloria insisted they eat plenty of salad and get their fruits while she was gone, because "growing boys needed their vitamins". Not that Arthur in any way disagreed, though he did have to nag at Eames a little sometimes regarding vegetables.

"What are we having?" Eames asked, wandering into the kitchen. Arthur was glad he was done with the beds. He didn't like it when they were in different parts of the house for too long.

"How about chicken stir fry?" Arthur offered. They had to cook the chicken breasts in the next day or two, and there were several different veggies that weren't going to last much longer. "If we have any teriyaki sauce... ah!" He grabbed a hold of the bottle and brandished it in triumph. "Just enough, I think."

Before Arthur could bend to collect the rest of the ingredients he would need, Eames swooped in to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing a warm, damp kiss to the corner of his jaw.

"Have I mentioned how much I appreciate the fact that you can cook?" he murmured in Arthur's ear, following this question up with a quick nip at the lobe.

"You can cook too," Arthur felt the need to point out.

"Not as well as you can," Eames protested, kissing his shoulder. Even though Arthur had on a thick sweater, this intimate caress sent little shivers through him.

"Well, let me loose so I can get on it," Arthur instructed, though he didn't really mean it even as he said it. Then again.... "It's a little chilly standing here in front of the open fridge."

"Oh, right, sorry," Eames apologized, kissing him one more time, on the mouth, then backing away. "Have at it, then."

"Are you hungry?" Arthur asked, retrieving the chicken and setting it on the counter beside the stovetop, then collecting the vegetables.

"Famished," Eames replied, but so lightly that Arthur didn't know whether to take him seriously or not. "Shall I get you the cutting board?"

"Both of them, please," Arthur instructed. "Do you want to chop up the chicken or the peppers?"

"I'll do the meat," Eames said. "I know you hate handling raw chicken, and I'd probably make a botch of the vegetables if I tried."

Arthur felt a glow of warmth at the fact that Eames both knew his dislike and was willing to indulge him in it. "You know how to do a julienne cut, don't you?"

"Not as such, no," Eames replied, sliding the white cutting board across the counter toward Arthur and keeping the red one for himself. Without prompting, he crossed to the sink and washed his hands thoroughly with hot water and dish soap. "You mean the long, stringy slice?"

Arthur laughed. "Yes, that."

Eames pulled a face and grabbed a sharp knife. "I'm rubbish at it," he admitted candidly. "Best to leave it in your capable hands."

Arthur shrugged, washing the hands in question. He didn't mind. In fact, while he trusted Eames, he preferred doing the vegetables himself, because them he could be sure they got done right. Besides, despite his self-disparagement, Arthur knew that Eames would do a good job with his own task.

"So, what gave you the idea for two separate cutting boards?" Eames asked as they both went to work. "One for meat only, right?"

"I think I saw it on a cooking show some time," Arthur said. "Not sure. But it makes sense, right?"

"Oh, absolutely." Eames nodded. As expected, he was doing an excellent job with the chicken, Arthur noted, slicing it thinly at a diagonal that would cook up easily and be a good match for the peppers, onions, mushrooms, and snow peas that Arthur intended to throw in the stir fry. Arthur was pleased to fine his trust in Eames' abilities had not been misplaced.

"Thank you," Arthur said, claiming the chicken once Eames was done, while Eames went to wash his hands again, with far hotter water, for much longer. Not that Arthur blamed him for that. After all, that was a large part of why he avoided that task himself; he felt as though he'd never be clean again when he touched raw poultry.

Which made it all the much more sweet and thoughtful that Eames had volunteered to do it for him. Arthur didn't thank him again; he already knew that Eames reacted poorly to an overabundance of gratitude. Eames put forward a confident mask, but Arthur was all too aware that he was horribly lacking in self confidence. Arthur tended to divide the blame between a father who had been verbally abusive as well as physically abuse, and a mother who hadn't put a stop to it, no matter how much she had loved her son.

Arthur didn't really blame Gloria.... But, on the other hand, he did. It was true that she was a tiny little slip of a thing, and couldn't have stopped Eames' father by force. But Arthur had to feel that there must have been something else she could have done. He didn't have any children himself, obviously, or even any siblings, but Arthur felt that part of a parent's job was to spare their children pain _at any cost_. And Gloria hadn't been able to save Eames from the man she had married.

So, yes, he was a little bitter toward her. Not enough to keep him from living with her and treating her kindly. She meant well, she tried hard, and she made it very clear how much she loved her son. And it was just as clear that she loved Arthur's Dad and by extension Arthur.

But underneath it all, there was the part of Arthur that loved Eames, and couldn't stand the thought that anyone had ever hurt him or that anyone else had allowed it to happen.

It was kind of scary to think, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, that he loved Eames... but he knew that it was true. And if Eames didn't know it, then Arthur would show him, would prove it to him in everything that he said and did.

"Are you all right?" Eames asked, pressing his hot, faintly damp hand to the nape of Arthur's neck, shaking him from his intense thoughts.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized. "Did you say something that I missed?"

"I just asked if there was anything I could do while you prepare dinner," Eames said, frowning at Arthur, his eyes dark and inquisitive. "Really, now, are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Arthur reassured him. "Just got lost in thought for a moment. I wasn't ignoring you, I swear."

"I didn't think you were," Eames said. "I was just concerned, because you looked so...."

Arthur smiled and stole a kiss, which had the desired effect of lightening Eames' pensive expression. "Really, Eames. I'm great." Something occurred to him, something he should have thought of earlier. "Shit, do you know how to work the rice cooker? Can you start some rice?"

"Oh! Yeah!" Eames moved quickly to get that going. Arthur was making enough food that they could probably both have eaten their fill without any rice, but he knew that they both preferred to have it with stir fry.

"Thank you," Arthur said, pouring a bit of olive oil into the pan and turning up the heat. This was going to be a delicious meal, he was certain of it. And making it together with Eames was going to make it that much better.

Everything was better with Eames in his life now. And that was something Arthur was never going to take for granted.

***

Dinner was delicious, not that Eames had expected anything less. But everything was better when Eames was anticipating taking Arthur to bed that night and introducing him to the pleasure of fingering.

Eames only hoped that Arthur liked it as well as he did. They would try it, Eames knew he was good at it, and if Arthur didn't enjoy it... well, they were still going to have to keep at it if Arthur was ever going to bottom, but Eames was completely confident that Arthur was going to enjoy it.

Eames was going to make sure of that fact.

Then again, if Arthur didn't like it, then maybe he _shouldn't_ bottom.... And Eames would be disappointed, but he would survive. Still, there was no reason not to think that Arthur wouldn't enjoy the fingering; especially with Eames doing it.

"I like sharing your bed when we sleep," he informed Arthur shyly as they began collecting themselves for the evening. There had been leftover brownies for dessert, then Arthur had vanished into the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes while Eames had played video games and tried to pretend he didn't miss Arthur. There were two guesses what Arthur had been doing, and Eames thought he had a good idea. He wanted to tell Arthur it wasn't necessary, but anything that made Arthur more comfortable and confident in what they were going to do was okay with him.

"So..." he continued, "If we could mess around in my bed, and then shift to yours to sleep? If that's all right?"

Arthur kissed him, shutting him up in his babbling. And presumably answering his question at the same time.

"It's just." Eames licked his lips as Arthur leaned back, meeting his eyes steadily even though his face was a fiery tomato red. "I know this sounds incredibly girly, but I like sleeping wrapped up in your scent as well as your arms." Oh, God, he could almost feel himself growing tits and a vagina.

"The sheets have been washed," Arthur seemed to feel the need to point out.

Eames pulled a face, but he could feel the burn of embarrassment fading a little. "Doesn't change anything. I still like sleeping in your bed."

"Well, that works out," Arthur informed him, and they moved together down the hall. "Because I prefer being debauched on your bed." His own cheeks were a pretty pink, but the glance he slanted Eames was more wicked than embarrassed.

Eames smirked in return. "Well, that can be arranged, I believe," he purred, pausing with his hand on his doorknob to exchange a slow but heated kiss with Arthur.

They didn't keep it going for long, because there wouldn't be any debauching if they didn't get into the bedroom and on the bed. But Eames made sure that Arthur was very thoroughly snogged.

Eames had bought two large tubes of lubricant and two boxes of condoms, putting one of each in each of their rooms. He still wasn't sure whether they would be using the condoms, since they hadn't reached a concrete decision, but it would be better to have them and not need them than the other way around.

So Eames went straight to his bed and reached under the pillow, retrieving the lube he'd stashed there.

"Ready to go," he announced, brandishing it and turning. Then he saw that Arthur was ready to go as well, considering that he had already stripped naked. No hesitation and no lingering shyness.

"Take off your clothes as well," Arthur instructed, claiming the tube from Eames' hand and leaning in close enough to brush the tips of their noses together, but not kissing him, before he moved around Eames to throw back the fresh bedcovers and climb onto the mattress.

"Yes, sir," Eames saluted, his gaze fixed on this pale, supple hind end. He had honestly never seen an arse as beautiful as Arthur's, and he wasn't just thinking this because it belonged to Arthur. It was the plain truth. And he was going to get to put his fingers in that fine arse. That was the fact that got him flinging off his clothing in a hurry, because the sooner he was naked, the sooner he would be joining Arthur on the bed.

Arthur settled himself back on Eames' pillows, his thighs spread and his knees raised. Either he really was more confident on Eames' bed, or he was just too impatient to be shy.

Didn't really matter. Either way, Eames had Arthur right where he wanted him. He joined him on the bed and knelt between Arthur's legs, holding out his hand imperiously for the lube. "Give that here, " he commanded.

Arthur handed it over. "Would it be better if I was on my stomach?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark and his lower lip was red where he had evidently been chewing on it.

"No," Eames replied, reaching down and gripping Arthur's cock with the hand not clutching at the lube. It was hard and ready, and Eames just squeezed it for a moment, because jacking it dry would probably not be the most pleasant sensation he could give Arthur right now.

"Stay there," he continued, not wanting to tell Arthur that the reason he'd taken a position on his belly himself had been to spare Arthur having to look him in the eyes as he fingered him. They were obviously beyond that point now, and Eames wanted to see every expression to cross Arthur's face. "But scoot down a little," he said, letting go of Arthur's cock and popping the lid of the slick.

Arthur did this, watching what Eames was doing closely. It made Eames a little self conscious, but he ignored this as he did exactly what he had instructed Arthur to do with the lotion; squeezed a generous portion into one palm, then using the fingers of the other hand to both warm it and get those same fingers thickly lubed up.

It was true that Eames had more experience with this than Arthur had, but the fact of the matter was that he had only done it to himself. He'd had someone do it to him, before buggering him, of course. But he'd never been the top before. He sincerely hoped that when it came time for Arthur to bottom, that he would do right by him. That was part of the reason he was going to insist on a _lot_ of time and care spent fingering Arthur, and it was pretty much the whole reason he had insisted that he bottom first.

Well, and he just _liked_ being fucked in the arse. But he rather suspected that he'd like fucking Arthur just as much when the time came. He wasn't fooling himself about that.

"Are you absolutely sure you want this?" he asked, giving Arthur one last chance for an out. Not that he thought Arthur would take it, seeing as they'd made it this far and Arthur didn't generally change his mind about things, but Eames was a gentleman.

"Absolutely," Arthur assured him, giving him a crooked grin. And, yes, he did look a little nervous, but mostly he looked certain and anticipatory. And that was as convincing to Eames as both the word he had spoken and the firm tone he had spoken it in.

"All right then," Eames murmured, turning his head to kiss the inside one of Arthur's knees, where the skin was thin and delicate. Arthur squeaked a little and nearly caught Eames in the temple with the same knee when he jerked in reaction.

"Sorry," they both said in unison.

"I didn't think you were ticklish," Eames said, shifting a little closer.

"Didn't think so either," Arthur replied, moving his bum a little against the bed beneath him, not seeming to realize he was doing it. "Evidently that's the one spot where I am."

"I'll keep that in mind," Eames said with a somewhat evil grin. Before Arthur could ask whether he meant to avoid it or for future misuse, Eames moved the hand with the lubed up fingers into position beneath Arthur's balls, crooking his finger and sliding the mid-knuckles into the crease between his arse cheeks, no hesitation for all he was careful and gentle.

"Okay?" Eames asked, not removing his hand, but instead shifting so that it was the pads of his first two fingers rubbing lightly against Arthur's hole, getting it good and slicked up.

"S'good," Arthur murmured, and his eyelids had fallen, his cheeks spotted with warmth that had nothing whatsoever to do with nerves or shame. He looked like pure sex in physical form, and Eames felt his own cock twitching, leaking, aching to be touched....

But this was about Arthur, not about Eames, and so he ignored his hard-on. He was more concerned with how he was going to get Arthur off while fingering him; with his mouth or with a lubed hand. He'd had Arthur use his hand, because he hadn't wanted to distract Arthur from what he'd been doing with Eames' arse. But he rather suspected that once he had finished toying with Arthur's hole, teasing every new and exciting sensation from it, as well as stretching it, that Arthur might well like to come in his mouth. Hot and tight and wet, just the way they both liked it, yeah?

"Glad you think so," Eames rumbled, more than a little smug. He renewed the lube on his fingers, causing Arthur to let out a small sound of displeasure as he removed his hand, then release a murmur of approval as Eames' fingers returned to caressing him in that oh-so-sensitive area.

"Come on, Eames," Arthur growled, his thighs bunching to either side of Eames, his hips flexing mindlessly. "Quit teasing already."

"I'm not teasing," Eames corrected him, even though he kind of had been. "I have to make sure you're ready for this."

Even though he could tell that Arthur was making a concerted effort to relax, Eames thought that Arthur was still a little too tense and tight to take his first finger. At least not without discomfort. And Eames fully intended to spare Arthur any and all discomfort. That was his first priority, or at least it was right up there with actually giving Eames mindblowing pleasure.

Well, there was an easy fix for that, and it also, completely incidentally, solved his question as to hand or blowjob.

Licking his lips and hoping that he had the coordination and concentration necessary, as well as hoping he didn't run out of lube too quickly, Eames reached with his free hand and gripped the base of Arthur's cock. Angling it so that the head was pointing right at him, Eames wasted no time, engulfing Arthur's erection and swallowing it down. It slid smooth over his tongue and nudged at the back of his throat.

For all he was new to being the one fingering someone other than himself, Eames was well versed in the art of sucking someone off. Suppressing his gag reflex, the only thing that really stopped him was the fact that his lips were getting dangerously near his lube-slick fingers where he was holding onto Arthur's shaft. He didn't care to try the taste, since he hadn't gotten a flavoured slick.

Arthur let out a loud, uncontrolled sound of enjoyment and entreaty, his hips bucking into the heat of Eames' mouth. His arse cheeks tightened around Eames' fingers, which was the completely opposite of Eames' intent, but after a few moments of flexing, he loosened up a little.

Bobbing his head, letting Arthur's thick cock slide in and out of his mouth without sucking too hard -- he didn't want this to end prematurely, after all -- Eames got his forefinger into the perfect position, and then when Arthur shifted back, he allowed it to slide smoothly inside.

"Oh!" Arthur froze, and Eames stepped up his ministrations of his cock a little. His lips were slick with saliva, as was the shaft of Arthur's cock, and he was feeling the burn a bit at the corners of his mouth. Arthur was generously gifted out in front, as Eames had noted before, and he was also quite tight behind -- pun only somewhat intended -- not that Eames had expected anything different.

Eames could have pulled off of the throbbing cock in his mouth and said something reassuring, but that would have required taking Arthur's cock out of his mouth, and that just wasn't going to happen.

Instead, he slid his finger in and out a few times, making sure that it moved smoothly with all the lube he had used. Which it did, and Arthur seemed to take it with perfect ease, in fact with no small amount of satisfaction if the low murmurs he was loosing above Eames' head and the fingers tangling in his hair were any indication. Taking all of this into consideration, Eames decided he could step up his game a little past what he had originally planned, and after withdrawing his finger all the way, he very carefully slid in two of them on his next go.

"Ah," was Arthur's utterance this time, and he pressed down _into_ the penetration. Well, there was no mistaking that directive, involuntary and nonverbal as it was, and so Eames went back to his work with a light heart and a hungry enthusiasm.

At this point Eames wasn't really trying to stretch Arthur. He was just giving him what he had asked for and showing him what it felt like to have a couple of fingers up his arse. As well as ascertaining for both of them that this was indeed something that Arthur would enjoy.

He definitely was enjoying it, Eames thought smugly, feeling Arthur's own fingers digging into his hair and tugging sharply enough almost to raise tears in his eyes. Or maybe that was a tip of Arthur's cock bumping into the back of his throat. Even with all the practice he'd gotten giving head, Eames was growing short of breath, and he was glad when Arthur went tense and stiff all around him, his legs drawing up around Eames' shoulders, his bum squeezing Eames' moving fingers, his hands grasping spastically at Eames' skull as his cock jumped in Eames' mouth, shooting come down his throat.

Eames had kind of been expecting that, so he took it with ease. A part of him felt guilty; he could have and maybe should have drawn this out more, spent more time playing with Arthur's body. But he'd taken Arthur's cock into his mouth to try to relax him, and it had worked. And once he had done that... well, how was he supposed to have held back? He was sure that Arthur had been just as eager for it as he had been, if not more so.

He hadn't even had the need or the opportunity to crook his fingers and try to stimulate Arthur's prostate, Eames thought with a little internal twinge. Well, next time. No, really. Because they _were_ going to do this again. Arthur had indicated a willingness to switch, and if he was going to bottom, then Eames _was_ going to be spending more time preparing him.

"Wow," Arthur exhaled, and Eames grinned, reluctantly sliding his fingers free and wiping them on the sheets. That was why they were going to be sleeping in Arthur's bed rather than this one, after all. "That was...."

Eames moved up to rest on the mattress beside Arthur, running his palm over Arthur's heaving chest, up one collarbone, pressing his fingertips to the pulse pounding in the line of Arthur's neck. Arthur turned toward him blindly and met Eames' mouth in a warm kiss , flopping a limp arm over Eames' shoulder.

"No need for words, darling," Eames purred against Arthur's mouth, moving his hand down and around to stroke the hot, sweat-damp muscles covering his shoulderblades. "Your blissed out expression says it all."

"No wonder you like that," Arthur murmured, nuzzling Eames' chin. He sounded at least as sexually sated and pleased as he looked, and Eames took pride in the hand he'd had in this, literally.

"I'll do better next time," he promised, tugging Arthur close. His own erection was still raging, but cuddling with Arthur was emotionally satisfying, and it could almost be considered its own form of foreplay, especially with the smell of sex that poured off of Arthur and wrapped itself around Eames' senses. "I rushed it, and I apologize."

"I liked that part of it, though," Arthur assured him, pulled back a little and smiling. "I mean, you're welcome to try to do better. Don't let me stop you. But as far as I can tell, right here and now, that was pretty much perfect."

"That's good," Eames said, reeling Arthur in to kiss him again. His hard-on was bumping up against Arthur's hip and thigh, leaving smears of pre-come, but the bathroom was between Eames' bedroom and Arthur's. They could make a stop in there on their way to going to bed, to get a little cleaned up. Arthur was going to want to wash off the lube as well, after all.

"So you enjoyed that?" Eames pressed. He wanted to hear Arthur say it. He needed to hear Arthur say it, because even though it had been obvious, even though Arthur had already pretty much implied so, Eames was suddenly anxious. He felt as though he had pushed this on Arthur, even though he really hadn't. It had always been as much Arthur's decision as his own, at each level they had discussed it, even though Eames had been the one to introduce the topic.

"You know I did," Arthur informed him, and he was sounding more alert now, not as lost in the afterglow.

"I know," Eames admitted. "But I feel better now that I've heard you say it."

Arthur chuckled a little, low and sultry. "I'll bet you'd feel even better if I got you off," he said.

"That is very probable," Eames replied, and he couldn't help grinning in return.

"Where's the lube?" Arthur asked, squirming free and sitting up. He was still moving with a loose limbed languor, but he was in control of his facilities, and he had his mind set on something in particular.

"By your knees, I think," Eames replied. He'd set it down once he'd gotten a good handful, and he really hoped he'd closed the cap securely.

Arthur went searching for it, and evidently found it, if his small sound of triumph was anything to go by. It made Eames' cock jump, and he was glad that it was coming up on his turn to get off.

"All right, Eames, roll over onto your side, your back to me," Arthur instructed firmly.

Eames did without question, because Arthur had already explained this to him. He'd already _done_ this before. He liked to spoon up behind Eames and give him a wank job the same as the way he jerked himself. Eames quite enjoyed it. He'd enjoyed it even more in the past when Arthur had been grinding his erection into the crack of his arse and between his thighs, but Arthur had already gotten off, so Eames wouldn't have that added pleasure tonight. That was all right, though. He was so turned out that he didn't think it was going to take much to get him off.

He could hear Arthur slicking up his hands, and then, as expected, he crowded in behind Eames. Eames raised his torso a little so that Arthur could worm his one arm underneath him, and then he settled back against Arthur with a happy sigh.

Arthur was warm and solid behind him, his thighs hard against Eames' thighs, his chest rising and falling steadily against Eames' back. Then he moved his hands down to grasp and rub at Eames' cock and cradle his balls, and Eames got a little distracted from anything that didn't involve the way Arthur was stroking him off.

He grabbed for the mattress with the hand underneath him, reaching back and clasping Arthur's flank with the other hand, his hips rocking into the hard, efficient strokes that Arthur was using to draw his pending orgasm up out of him.

Arthur was kissing his neck and shoulder, breathing something into the skin, making sharp little marks with his teeth, but all that Eames was really aware of was how incredibly skillfully Arthur was working his hard-on. He sort of wished that Arthur had been capable of freeing a hand to stick some fingers up his arse, but then he was coming, so hard he saw red and gold sparks, and that was the end of coherent thought of any sort for a while.

When he came back to an external awareness, outside if the deep pleasure still radiating through the entirety of his body, he noted that Arthur's arms were still wrapped around him, hands on his stomach, now, and his mouth was pressed warm and heavy against the curve of Eames' shoulder and neck.

"Mm, thank you," Eames said, because even though that might not be the most appropriate response, it was only good manners. Arthur chuckled and nipped at his shoulder, then shifted, pulling his arm from under Eames.

"We should get washed up and get to bed," he said, sounding about as reluctant to move as Eames felt.

"I suppose," Eames grunted, gathering himself and rolling over the edge of the bed and sitting up. He turned at the waist, far enough to claim a kiss from Arthur.

Privately, Eames didn't think they'd last through the night and into the next morning without making a mess of the fresh sheets on Arthur's bed as well, but hopefully it wouldn't be _such_ a mess. And right now he was looking forward to nothing more than curling up with Arthur under his sheets and comforter, pressing up against his lean body, soaking in the heat and scent of him, just enjoying being close.

"Tomorrow," he said, as they rose off the bed and made their way into the bathroom, pausing for plenty of breathless kissing along the way.

"Tomorrow?" Arthur prompted, running the water until it steamed and then wetting a washcloth.

"Tomorrow, after Ariadne has come over and made cookies and then left," Eames said, holding still and letting Arthur wipe down his belly and mostly flaccid cock, even though he could have done it for himself, "I'd like very much if you would fuck me, Arthur."

Arthur looked up from what he was doing, startled. "What, you mean, _fuck_ you?"

Eames nodded. "I don't think I can wait any longer. And, honestly, with the way I've been keeping myself used to a few fingers while jerking off, it's not going to be too traumatizing for my arsehole. Honestly. I want it, Arthur. More than I've wanted most anything, ever."

Arthur blinked at him, the shock melting into speculation and intrigue. "Okay. I.... As long as you're _sure_ , Eames, then I'm more than willing."

"I'm very sure," Eames replied, nodding firmly. Then he had second thoughts, but probably not the kind that Arthur might have expected. "Are _you_ okay with it, though?" he asked, claiming the washcloth and refreshing it before moving to wipe Arthur down in turn. "I'm not trying to rush you into anything...."

Arthur shook his head, reaching out and slinging his arms over Eames' shoulders, but remaining unmoving as Eames cleaned off what was more lube and a little sweat than anything else, since Eames had mostly swallowed his come.

"I want it just as much as you, Eames. That's not something you need to worry about."

Eames tossed the washcloth in the sink and let Arthur reel him on, planting his own hands on those narrow hips that looked so good in the fitted trousers Arthur tended to wear instead of jeans. "Then we are in agreement," he said, claiming Arthur's mouth with his own, trading soft, eager kisses. He loved kissing Arthur at any time, but some of his favorite moments were once they had both come and there was no urgency to it, when it was just the two of them, savouring the closeness, sharing breath and tasting one another, just taking the time to feel the other's warmth and the plush give and press of their lips together.

Soon they would get moving, probably when Eames realized he was getting chilled, and they would go into Arthur's room and crawl into bed, huddling under the covers together, holding on as they fell asleep. But for now they stood in the bathroom naked, chest to chest, soft cocks nestled close between their thighs, and traded sleepy, satisfied kisses.

And despite his plans for the next day, there wasn't anything Eames could have wanted more than this slow, sweet closeness in this exact moment in time.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, is anyone naked in there?" Ariadne called, letting herself in at the previously agreed upon time. Of course, Arthur noted that she had let herself in as usual instead of knocking and waiting to be let in, so she couldn't have been too concerned about catching them getting up to something.

"We're all naked under our clothing, I believe," Eames told her, pausing on his way to the kitchen with a handful of CDs to listen to while they baked. Arthur thought it was cute and old fashioned that Eames still used actual CDs rather than an MP3 player of some sort, but he certainly wasn't going to risk offending him by saying so. "I'm sure that we shall strive to keep our clothing on for the duration of your visit, though," Eames assured Ariadne, even as she stuck her tongue out at him. "Right, Arthur?"

"That was certainly _my_ plan," he said dryly. The thought of naked Eames was making his dick twitch, even though he and Eames had gotten each other off about a half hour before Ariadne's arrival. He resolutely refused to think about what he was going to be doing to naked Eames tonight, after Ariadne had left, because then he was consumed with as much anxiety as sexual arousal, and that was just no good.

"You know, I don't _have_ to come and hang out with you guys," Ariadne said tartly as they all made their way into the kitchen. "I've got other offers."

"But none as charming as we are, I'm quite certain," Eames said, playing up the accent a little.

Ariadne rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and she replied with a certain amount of fondness in her voice. "No, none as charming as either of you."

"I knew it," Eames crowed triumphantly. He chose one of the CDs he'd been carrying, seemingly at random, setting the rest on the counter, out of the way, and popped the CD into the player that Arthur's Dad kept in the corner, because he was as wretchedly behind the times as Eames was.

As music filled the kitchen, Ariadne and Eames set about making cookies. Arthur had made sure that they had the proper ingredients and he made them some coffee -- tea for Eames, of course -- with plans for making hot chocolate later, and if one of them asked he gave the batter a stir, but for the most part he tried to stay out of the way.

"I already know I can bake," he said. "But three chefs is a bit much, and Ariadne might end up getting trampled if all of us are trying to do the same thing at the same time."

"I have very pointy elbows," she declared, brandishing the body part in question. Arthur knew that this was the truth from past experience and thought privately that this was another reason to stay out of the way. "But that's okay, Arthur. As long as you're willing to miss out on the fun, you're free to sit at the table and watch."

Arthur refrained from mentioning that a large part of the fun for him would have been in groping Eames' ass and stealing sugary kisses, so he stayed silent and sat at the table with his laptop.

Not that all they did was mix dough and shape the cookies on baking pans. There was plenty of banter, and Arthur participated in that just as much as Ariadne and Eames. And in that case, he _didn't_ miss out on the fun. Though he had to admit to occasionally being appalled at the things that came out of one or the other of their mouths.

This last was nothing new, of course, but it seemed as though they had both gotten a little more raunchy, now that Arthur and Eames were screwing and Ariadne knew about it.

"I can't believe you guys did it in your grandparents' basement," Ariadne said to Arthur at one point, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink from the oven heat and from laughter. And probably caffeine and sugar overload too.

"Well, if you'd said something sooner--" Arthur began, but Ariadne didn't allow him to finish this thought.

"Oh, no, you can't pin that on me! Hell, if it wasn't for _me_ , you two would still be dancing around each other, and you'd both still be miserable! So how about a little respect!"

"At least we weren't sharing a room with our parents," Eames put in smoothly. "Or any of Arthur's cousins. That would have been untenable."

"Oh, God," Ariadne sputtered. "That's just-- no!"

"My thoughts exactly," Arthur put in dryly. "So can we change the subject before I start thinking about Dad and Gloria having sex?"

"Euw!" Ariadne and Eames chorused, though Eames looked far more horrified, naturally enough. Arthur really hoped that this was enough to bring this portion of the conversation to a screeching halt, because it was grossing him out as well.

Fortunately for all of them, the timer went off in this moment and Eames scurried over to get the cookies out of the oven.

"You're kind of an ass," Ariadne said, moving to lean over Arthur where he was still sitting at the table. "I'm so happy for you, both of you guys." She lowered her voice. "Especially you, though, Arthur. But don't tell Eames I said that."

She whispered this last, and Arthur raised one brow. He didn't really mind what she had just said, but he thought that he might, depending on why she had said it.

"Just because I've known you longer," she hastened to add, no doubt sensing his potential disapproval. "You're like the brother I never wanted."

Arthur squawked as she ruffled his hair, trying to fend her off without actually risking doing her any damage. She really was tiny. He was relieved by her reasoning, as well as feeling loved. It was nice to know that Ariadne cared as much as she clearly did.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to protect your honor?" Eames asked, glancing over from where he was standing before the oven. He seemed at ease and cheerful, so Arthur assumed he hadn't heard what Ariadne had said. Well, not that he thought Eames would hold it against her even if he _had_ heard. Because it was true that she had known Arthur much longer; they had practically grown up together.

"Naw, I'm good," Arthur replied, poking Ariadne in the side to make her squeak. He half expected this to devolve into a slap fight, as it sometimes did, but instead she scampered across the kitchen and stole a cookie from the batch that had come out of the oven previous to the latest pan, one that was cool enough to eat.

"I hope you guys know I'm taking some of these home," Ariadne informed them through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. "You might have supplied the ingredients, but I've done at least half of the work."

"At least," Eames agreed easily, wielding a spatula to scoop the new cookies onto the rack. "You must save me from myself and take some of these sugary, fattening cookies away."

Ariadne paused in the act of picking up another cookie, and shot Eames a dirty look.

"Oh, like either of you has to worry about that," Arthur declared, rising and joining Ariadne in snagging a cookie. They were delicious, and perfectly golden-brown. "Like any of us do."

"You two less than I," Eames rumbled, now spooning out fresh dough that began to melt as soon as it hit the still hot pan surface. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

"It's only the truth," Arthur said, frowning slightly. "You don't need to thank me for pointing out something that's obvious."

"You might have more bulk than us," Ariadne said, her eyes flashing the way they did when she found something she felt was worth fighting about. "But it's all muscle. And I'm sure if you asked Arthur, he'd tell you he was perfectly happy with you just the way you are."

"All right, all right," Eames said, before Arthur could add anything. He turned to give Ariadne a sheepish grin. "I wasn't implying anything, love. No potential eating disorders here," he promised, waving the batter coated spoon.

Ariadne gave him a narrow stare, and Arthur took the opportunity to nab another couple of cookies. He refreshed his coffee, and thus fortified, he returned to the table. He was filled with the overwhelming desire to wrap Eames up in his arms and not let go, and he didn't figure that now was the time for that.

"Ooh, coffee!" Ariadne noticed, distracted from Eames by Arthur's actions, much to Eames' evident relief.

As though she needed the caffeine added on top of the sugar, Arthur thought with a small grimace. They were going to have to figure out some way to burn off some of that energy, and soon. Sex was out, obviously. He didn't want to think about Ariadne and sex at the same time, even though it obviously would have been his preferred method if it had been just him and Eames here. Maybe they could play some video games once all the cookies were done.

Which was exactly what they ended up doing. Ariadne trounced them both soundly, stayed so long she wound up eating dinner with them, and then batched up a third of the cookies to take home.

"Be good," she told them as she made her way out the door. Arthur burned a hot red, thinking about what Eames wanted him to do tonight. It had actually probably been a good thing that Ariadne had been here most of the afternoon and evening, he thought. Her presence had kept his mind off of what he and Eames were going to do once she was gone, and that had kept him from going into meltdown mode out of anxiety.

He had actually studied into anal sex on his laptop while Ariadne and Eames had been making cookies. It had seemed a little... _wrong_.... And yet it had been the best time to do it, and he'd picked up some information that he hoped would be helpful. There was no way that he was going into this thing blind. Not when Eames was depending on him to make it good.

This was a tremendous amount of trust that Eames was putting in Arthur and his abilities, and there was no way that Arthur was going to let him down.

"We will be," Eames assured Ariadne, which was good, because Arthur couldn't have spoken the words if he'd tried.

"I'm going to be busy tomorrow," Ariadne said, pausing outside the front door, a tupperware container of cookies balanced on one hand, her key ring clutched in the other. "But give me a call or text me, if you want to hang out any time after that. I won't be offended if you don't, though. I'm sure you both want plenty of alone time."

"You know we like spending time with you," Arthur protested, though he was grateful to her for her thoughtful addendum and the matter-of-fact graciousness with which she had offered it up.

"All the same." She twinkled at them as though she knew what they were about to get up to -- she might have a good idea, but there was no way she could _know_ \-- and then she was on her way down to her shitty old pickup.

Arthur made sure that they waited until she was out of sight down the road before going back inside, even though it was cold out. There had been times past, especially in winter, when the truck had refused to start. And the last thing they needed when they were about to embark on some honest to fuck _fucking_ was Ariadne come back knocking on their door.

"Come on, darling," Eames said, tugging at Arthur's arm.

"Coming," Arthur said, shivering a little. "Wanted to make sure her truck started."

"Ah." Eames nodded his understanding. "Good idea."

"I thought so," Arthur replied dryly, but he was grinning at Eames as he said it.

"That was lovely," Eames said, smiling back as they walked into the den. "Having Ariadne over. But I'm very glad that she's gone. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Arthur only just had time to ask -- and wasn't that a stupid question -- before he was pounced into the sofa by a very enthusiastic Eames. "Oof!"

"You okay?" Eames asked, even as he manhandled Arthur into a position under him that was more comfortable for both of them.

"Yeah," Arthur breathed, but it was more the arms he slung around Eames' neck and shoulders than this one word that answered Eames' question. Eames' enthusiasm thrilled him, deeply. Not that he was surprised by it at this point.... But to be honest, there was a part of him that was _always_ a little surprised by it, even though it was his new daily reality.

Apparently reassured, Eames lowered his mouth to Arthur's, slanting them together perfectly with the ease of familiarity and the certainty of desire. Arthur slid his tongue into Eames' mouth at the same time that Eames slipped his between Arthur's lips and teeth and they tangled together, slick and lithe between their close-fitted mouths. Arthur sank his fingers into Eames' hair and felt some of his anxiety melting away. This was familiar. This was comfortable. This was what he had needed to take his mind off of what they were going to be doing before the night was out.

It felt good, lying here under Eames. Arthur was warm and wrapped up in the smell of Eames and sugar from the cookies, Eames heavy on him but not stifling. One of Eames' hands was on the crown of his head, because he was using that arm to prop himself over Arthur, and the other was cupping his shoulder, thumb rubbing little spirals over Arthur's collarbone through the material of his shirt.

Arthur trailed the fingers of the hand not caught in Eames' hair over the muscles of his upper back and shoulders. Eames was wearing a thick sweater because he always seemed to run cold even when they kept the heat at a comfortable level here in the house. Arthur would have preferred bare flesh, but at least the sweater was soft.

Without quite realizing he had done it, Arthur slid his leg upward, hooking it behind one of Eames' legs, and he shifted his hips restlessly beneath Eames' weight, pushing their growing erections together. That felt good, so he did it again, on purpose that time, and Eames groaned as he wrenched his mouth away. He pressed his face into the side of Arthur's neck, his plush lips moving moist over the pulse throbbing there, followed by the hot-wet slither of his tongue, too arousing to be ticklish.

"God!" Arthur gasped, as gooseflesh skittered over the entire surface of his skin, his dick jumping in his pants. He clutched at Eames' back with more fervor than finesse, but Eames didn't seem to mind. He ground down against Arthur, mapping the line of his neck and the corner of his jaw with eager lips and a lapping tongue.

By the time Eames let up, Arthur was feeling completely wrecked, and he had almost forgotten where they were headed. It seemed just as urgent as before, but less intimidating. More like something that he was going to be able to do, and even better, something that he was _aching_ to do.

"Shall we move this to the bedroom?" he suggested huskily, clenching his fingers in Eames' hair and sweater at once, tugging lightly on both.

"Sure," Eames replied simply but eloquently, raising his head and licking pressure-bruised lips. Arthur shivered. The skin of his neck felt chilled without Eames' face pressed against it, without his lips mapping it, but there was a greater prize to be had and they should get to the bedroom and get out of their clothes. Then he and Eames could kiss one another _all over_.

Muscles flexing, Eames shifted off of Arthur and onto his feet, giving Arthur a hand up then using the momentum to pull him into Eames' arms, where they both stood next to the sofa.

"This isn't getting us into the bedroom any faster," Arthur murmured against Eames' mouth as he pressed in for another kiss. They were both smiling, he could feel it, and then their lips softened and they kissed for real.

Deciding that it was up to him to get things moving, Arthur broke the kiss, and wrapped his hand around Eames' wrist.

"Come on," he urged, dragging Eames down the hall. Not that Eames was in any way reluctant. In fact, he moved easily and eagerly. But he was very definitely letting Arthur take the lead. And since Arthur wasn't sure whether this was merely Eames humoring him, or if Eames really had settled into a mindset of letting Arthur take control, he didn't complain about it. He _couldn't_ complain, because there was a large part of him that liked it, that liked it a _lot_. While he didn't mind the times that Eames tossed him about and told him what was what, he was glad that it went both ways. Because sometimes he wanted to be the one giving the orders instead of taking them, and now was one of those times.

If Eames wanted him to top, he was going to top and he was going to do a great job of it.

That wasn't to say that Eames was malleable or anything less than his usual confident, cheeky self. He gave Arthur a wicked smirk as he stripped his sweater over his head and dropped it on the floor, his eyes sparking with heat and desire. Since they were in Eames' room, Arthur couldn't complain about the clothing on the floor... but he wouldn't have been inclined to anyway. He was just happy that Eames was getting naked so quickly and conveniently.

In fact, he got so caught up in watching Eames disrobe that he kind of forgot to do any of that himself. Eames stepped up to stand directly before him, his lips still curved smugly, as his nimble fingers went to the fastenings of Arthur's jeans.

"Let's get your out of these, shall we," Eames rumbled, leaning in and kissing Arthur's chin rather than his mouth, while his warm, confident hands slid under the waistband and around Arthur's hips, shoving his pants down around his ankles in one smooth move.

"I can't believe we lasted all day," Arthur said conversationally, running his hands over Eames' pectorals, making no move to take any more of his own clothes off, fingers plucking at this fascinating pointed nipples. "Having Ariadne around definitely dampens the libido."

"Well, maybe not so much," Eames replied, and there went Arthur's underwear, leaving him in only his shirt. Giving up on Eames' chest for a moment, he stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor with everything else, because why not?

"I found myself just as horny, just as enthralled by your beauty as usual," Eames continued, saying things like that as though they were perfectly normal, as though he wasn't making Arthur blush a bright red. "Only without the ability to act on it."

"I'm pretty sure you weren't feeling so enthralled when Ariadne was knocking your Princess Peach over the edge on the DK Mountain track," Arthur protested, thinking back to some of the highlights of the day. Eames had an impressive vocabulary when it came to swearing, and most of the things he had come out with had never been in any of the Agatha Christie or Arthur Conan Doyle books Arthur had read while growing up, nor on anything he'd seen on the BBC.

"Yes, even then," Eames declared, and now it was his hands that were roaming over Arthur's bared torso. "Why do you think I was playing so poorly?"

"I thought that's how you always--" Arthur began, but Eames surged in for a kiss, swallowing the rest of his retort before he could utter it. Not that Arthur minded in the least. Now was time for sex, not for taunting one another over their prowess on video games. There would be time for _that_ later, _after_ the sex.

"Arthur," Eames breathed, when they broke for air.

"Yeah?" Arthur reached up and thumbed at Eames' cheekbone as he leaned back enough to meet his eyes. He loved looking at Eames as much as he loved touching and tasting him, and it never stopped being amazing to him that someone as attractive as Eames so clearly was not only was completely modest about it -- some might almost say oblivious, though that _couldn't_ be true, could it? -- but he also wanted someone who looked like Arthur.

Oh, sure, Arthur knew he wasn't completely unfortunate as far as looks were concerned. Ariadne had pounded it into his head that he was attractive, and Eames had called him "beautiful" enough times that he sort of believed that Eames believed it.... But when he had people like Eames and Dom to compare himself to, how could he feel anything more than awkward and gangly? Not to mention, he heard the word "adorable" used to describe him more often than "handsome".

Still, as long as Eames liked what he saw -- and he certainly seemed to, if the light in his eyes was any indication -- then Arthur could hardly complain.

"You're not getting yourself too worked up are you?" Eames asked, a frown creasing the flesh between his brows, his lower lip extended slightly.

Arthur shook his head. "Not really," he replied honestly. "My brain keeps trying to get hung up on it, tries to make me panic, but then you do something like kissing me, or pouncing me into the sofa, and that makes it all okay again."

Eames was gazing at him seriously. "Darling, if it helps, we can just approach this as though it were any other tryst," he said, and he spoke as though it was perfectly normal for a sixteen year old male to use words like _darling_ and _tryst_. Arthur kind of loved him even more for that, if that was possible. "Then we can decide once we get into it whether or not you're going to fuck me. Okay?"

Arthur nodded, because that was fine with him. He didn't think it would actually help, but he doubted it would hurt. His brain wasn't that easy to fool, but Eames had a talent for short circuiting his ability to think with sex, so once they really got going, Arthur anticipated that a lot of the tension filling him right now would be quickly banished.

"On the bed?" Eames prompted, quirking a brow.

Arthur crooked a smile at him. "Now."

This time both of Eames' eyebrows rose, but then he grinned at Arthur in return and jumped onto the bed as directed. "Join me," he said, more an order than an entreaty. Not that Arthur had any problem with this. He fully intended to join Eames, sooner rather than later.

The base of his stomach still felt a little heavy every time he thought about what Eames wanted him to do, what they were almost definitely going to end up doing.... But then he comforted himself with the thought that they'd both indulged in frottage and fingering, and this was going to be kind of a combination of the two.... And, okay, not really. But it was something that was instinctive, so even though it was kind of a big deal, it was hardly something life altering.

After all, teenagers lost their virginity every day, right? And not always to someone they felt as strongly about as Arthur felt about Eames. So he should really stop building it up in his head. He was only going to psyche himself out at this point.

The main problem, he thought as he crawled over Eames and collapsed on top of him in the reverse of their positions on the sofa, was that he was afraid that he was going to mess it up. What if he sucked at fucking Eames? Arthur always hated doing something new when he had no guarantee he'd be good at it. And Eames _had_ been with another partner, so it wasn't as though he didn't have some frame of reference for comparison.

"Just relax," Eames murmured, kissing the corners of Arthur's mouth, then sucking his lower lip between his teeth and nipping at it lightly. "You could do a terrible job and it would still be the best fuck of my life, because it's you."

Arthur might have gotten offended, he supposed, but he really just had to laugh. "That's hardly a ringing endorsement of your faith in my abilities," he said dryly, nuzzling Eames' cheek.

"Sorry," Eames said apologetically. "It sounded better in my head, before it came out my mouth."

Instead of replying, Arthur simply reclaimed said mouth. He and Eames kissed for long, lazy minutes, and as he had expected, Arthur felt most of his anxiety slipping away. The phrasing may have been rather unfortunate, but he took Eames' meaning. And it was probably true. For Arthur this was his first time going all the way... but for Eames, it would be his first time going all the way _with Arthur_. And that made it just as special for him, in a different way.

Arthur rocked his hips against Eames'. They were both hard and he shifted so that their dicks were pressed against each other between the flat planes of their bellies. It would have been easy to rub off against Eames this way, they'd certainly done it like this many, many times before, but Arthur knew that Eames wanted more from him. And as the reality of it sank into his mind, Arthur came to realize that he was really coming to anticipate it himself.

Well, not that he hadn't been, ever since Eames had first suggested it as a possibility. But now the desire to do it was definitely outweighing his worry over potentially screwing it up.

Arthur could feel Eames shifting under him, stretching, and realized he was grabbing the lube, which he evidently kept under the pillow. Arthur had almost suggested they have sex on _his_ bed this time, feeling strangely possessive of Eames and his ass, but that would have required that they change the sheets on Eames' bed, which they hadn't done since the last time they'd had sex on it. Arthur's sheets were still pristine and so better for sleeping on. Besides, they'd be snuggled together once they were all finished, no matter whose bed it was.

That was getting ahead of himself, though.

Right now, Arthur pulled back, smiling slightly at Eames as he plucked the lube from his hand. He was filled with a sudden sense of confidence as he saw how enthralled and turned on Eames was, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his cheeks flushed. His lips were red and pressure-bruised, and despite this temptation, Arthur bent to instead press open-mouthed kisses against the dip between Eames' collarbones, then further down to tongue at his pointy nipples.

"Ooh," Eames exhaled, his chest pushing out toward Arthur. His fingers tangled in Arthur's hair, tugging gently, and Arthur settled in to suck at one nipple, using the hand that wasn't holding the lube to twist the other to further hardness.

"Like that?" Arthur murmured against Eames' chest, licking a swath up the indent between his defined pectorals. Arthur might identify as bisexual, but he had to admit that generally speaking he found the male form to be more desirable than the female. _Especially_ when the male from in question was Eames. He was in shape, his muscles sculpted, his ass just about as perfect as an ass could be....

Speaking of which. Arthur had a tube of lubricant, and a very much perfect ass to use it on. He was really grateful that Eames had bought the lube, though he suspected that they both would have been willing to use lotion or whatever else might have been at hand. Still, Arthur was a proponent of using the proper tools and doing things right the first time, so he was grateful for the lube. And also glad he hadn't had to buy it in the drug store.

They were in what Arthur considered to be just about the perfect position, at least to start with. Eames was lying on his back, but rolled a little to his right. Arthur was resting partially on him and partially on the mattress. And once he'd greased up his fingers, he was able to reach over Eames' left hip, sliding them between Eames' ass cheeks and slicking up his crack.

He was glad he'd fingered Eames already, so that he had a better idea of what he was doing. He didn't think he was anywhere near as good at it as Eames was, but Eames hadn't had any complaints up to this point. In fact, he evidently enjoyed it so much that he wanted Arthur to step things up and actually fuck him ahead of the vague schedule he'd offered up when they had first begun discussing things like this.

"Go ahead and put two in," Eames husked, raising his leg to hook over Arthur's waist, offering himself more widely. His arms were slung loosely around Arthur's neck and he was already breathing a little heavily against Arthur's flushed cheek when Arthur did as instructed.

The angle was a little less perfect when Arthur set in on really working Eames' hole, getting it wet and stretched, but he made do, because he liked being face to face with Eames, loved the little panting kisses that Eames was feathering over his cheekbone and temple as he rocked in time with the slithery slide in and out of Arthur's fingers.

Eames' dick was leaking against the skin of Arthur's hip, hot and wet. He liked that, liked the way it felt, but he was going to like it even more when they moved things along to their natural conclusion.

"Here," Eames grunted, his lips pressing heavy and thick against Arthur's chin as he reached behind with his left hand and sent his own forefinger to join Arthur's in his ass. "Oh, uhn, yeah."

That was completely unexpected, and it was a tight fit, but it was also hot as hell, Eames' finger squeezed in alongside Arthur's, and Arthur could feel his dick jumping, spurting pre-come and reminding him that he really wanted to get _this_ body part inside of Eames as soon as possible.

Eames didn't seem to have any desire to take it slow, for which Arthur was grateful. Sometimes he liked to take his time, to tease every quivering sensation out of Eames that he could manage, but now he thought that he should get going before he lost his nerve. Not to mention, he wanted to _last_ once he got inside of Eames.

"Do you think you're ready?" Arthur asked, his own voice husky and rough. He felt a shiver go through Eames' body, or maybe that was his own.

"If you use more slick, then yeah," Eames growled, his teeth nipping hard and sharp at the corner of Arthur's jaw.

"That was my plan," Arthur retorted, trying for dry but coming off more aroused, he thought. "Gonna make sure you're dripping with it. But are you sure...?"

"Never been more sure of anything," Eames replied, licking where he had bitten, his tongue flat and soft. It was definitely Arthur who shivered now, even though Eames was the one with three fingers in his ass.

"All right," Arthur said, thinking fast. He could have made a decision, could have given Eames an order and trusted that he would obey it, but he wasn't willing to do so without input. Maybe once they were more familiar with one another's bodies, moods, and desires, but not for their first time together. "Do you want to be on your stomach or your back?"

"Mm." Eames made a disappointed noise when Arthur slid his fingers free. Arthur still didn't know how he was supposed to get his dick in a hole that tight, but he trusted Eames to know what he was doing, to know what he was capable of taking. "I want to see your face," Eames said thoughtfully, reaching up with the hand that didn't have lube on it and stroking one of Arthur's flushed cheeks. "That's more awkward, but I think we can make it work. If you're up for it...."

"Of course," Arthur replied, and together they shifted around until Eames was on his back on the bed, with a folded-over pillow propped under his ass, his knees drawn up past what looked comfortable, Arthur kneeling before him. He'd thought that Eames had been exposed before, had felt as though he 'd been exposed the first time he had spread his thighs for Eames, but that had been nothing to compare to this.

It should maybe have looked a little silly, Arthur thought as he poured a generous amount of lube into his hands, making sure to warm it before he got anywhere near Eames' ass. But it didn't, really. It looked sexy and tempting, and he fully intended to make full use of the position.

Despite Eames' assurances that he was ready, Arthur went back to sliding two fingers inside of him, slicking on more lube, and when that went okay, he upped the count to three. It was tight but no painfully so, and he slid them in and out a few times, making sure that Eames was wet inside and out.

"That's nice," Eames purred, shifting his hips into the penetration as well as he could in his bunched up pose. His thighs were tight, his toes curled, and Arthur could feel Eames' hands grasping at Arthur's own thighs, where he could just barely reach them. In fact, he was impressed by Eames' flexibility in doing so, though he wasn't going to pause to communicate this.

"You're sure?" He knew he was repeating himself and Eames had already given him his assurance, but his three fingers were being squeezed so tightly, and he just didn't want to risk hurting Eames.

"Yeah," Eames gritted out, his nails digging blunt and hard into the flesh of Arthur's thighs for a moment, before he lowered his hands to grab at the sheets beneath him. "Come on, Arthur. Don't make me wait."

"We've barely gotten started," Arthur protested, but he was already sliding his hand free and slicking up his throbbing erection. It was true that they hadn't indulged in a lot of foreplay to this point, but they were both pent up from being good the entire time Ariadne had been here, and they both wanted this, very badly. Arthur reflected over the fact that they were neither of them a girl, so there wasn't actually much need for warming up, as long as they were both hard. And they were. Very hard.

Not that he didn't like foreplay. He most certainly did. But right now it just didn't seem necessary. Arthur wanted to fuck Eames, and Eames was making it very obvious that he wanted to be fucked by Arthur. It was a heady rush of shared desire and mutual arousal that Arthur would have been hard put to ignore. And so he didn't even try.

"Come on," Eames urged, his legs beginning to tremble with the effort of holding them up. Arthur moved into position, shifting until his knees were to either side of the pillow under Eames' ass, and his stiff red dick pointed directly at his hole.

There was lube everywhere, making Arthur glad after all that they were doing this on Eames' bed rather than his own. It made his dick slippery, even when he held it in hand and carefully aimed it, and he skidded, the head of his dick nudging Eames' tightly drawn up balls a couple of times, before he got the angle just right, and Eames spread his cheeks a little, opening up for him even more, and he slid right in.

He'd expected there to be more resistance. There was definitely plenty of pressure, squeezing his shaft all the way in. But Eames seemed to be doing something to make the entry more smooth, for Arthur at least, and he appreciated that.

Mostly, though, he was overwhelmed with the sensation of it all. It was different from a handjob or rubbing off between their bellies, or even from a blowjob. It was tight and slick and perfect, and what made it even better was that it was _Eames_. Eames wrapped his legs around Arthur as he pushed all the way in, his hands coming up to clutch at Arthur's shoulders, his head tossed back as he loosed a low groan that rumbled up from inside his chest.

It crossed Arthur mind briefly that Eames wasn't seeing Arthur's face as he had specified, his eyes squeezed closed as they were and his head arched back into the pillow, but Arthur didn't really care. _He_ could see _Eames_ as he entered him for the first time, and that was something almost as amazing as the feeling of his erection sliding inside Eames' heated tightness.

Eames was flushed a fierce pink, of course he was. His expression was tight and yet at ease, his lips parted and glistening, his eyelashes fluttering as Arthur pulsed a couple of times once he was in as deeply as he could get. Perspiration glistened at Eames' temples and at the base of his throat, darkening his hairline and tempting Arthur's tongue. He wasn't that talented, though, and almost all of his attention was focused on the way Eames was clenching around his dick, the intense pleasure that was building in his entire body, beginning at and centered in his groin.

Then Eames did open his eyes, dark and hot under heavy lids, and he drank in Arthur's face as hungrily as he had indicated earlier. Arthur wondered what it was Eames was seeing. He felt as red as Eames looked, as sweaty, and he realized belatedly that he had his lower lip clamped between his teeth in order to hold in the guttural sounds that might otherwise be escaping.

"Don't, darling," Eames husked, reaching up and sweeping the pad of his thumb over Arthur's lip, coaxing it from between his teeth. "There, that's better," he gasped, hips twitching.

Arthur couldn't help admiring Eames' ability to do, well, _anything_ right now. But he also experienced the overwhelming need to make it so that Eames _couldn't_ do anything else, so that he could only hold on and ride it out as Arthur fucked him.

Which meant that he had to get to the fucking.

"Is it okay?" he managed to gasp out, fighting every instinct in his body and beginning a slow, smooth withdrawal. Eames let out a little whine and shifted with him, so Arthur slid back in, pushing up against the solid shape of Eames' ass with his hipbones.

"Good, s'good," Eames slurred, eyes closing again, and he sounded as though he meant it. "Better when you start moving."

Arthur didn't mind being told what to do, was just glad to be given this directive, and once he got his knees under them both more securely, he set in to do just as Eames had specified.

"Oh!" Eames gasped, and Arthur was pretty sure he himself had let out a completely undignified sound, as they started moving together. Arthur kept it to short, shallow thrusts at first, unwilling to pull out too far, uncertain of his leverage. Eames didn't seem to mind, rocking with him, his hands moving over Arthur's back, before settling down to hold on tight as Arthur continued working them both toward climax.

Arthur had read about the prostate, but he didn't yet have the experience and talent that it would have taken him to try stimulating it deliberately. He felt a little bad about that, but mostly he was just grateful that he was able to do as well as he _was_ doing. Once they were both better at this, then there would be time for finesse.

Likewise, he wasn't able to reach down and give Eames a literal hand. He kind of thought that common courtesy dictated he at least _try_ , but he was barely able to keep them both in a positions they needed to be in. Eames hadn't been kidding when he had called this "awkward".

"Eames, I'm gonna... I'm..." he gasped, trying to warn Eames that he was close to coming, as his thrusts became faster and harder. He braced his knees against the mattress and pounded with more force and more intent, doing his best to hold onto Eames when they were both coated in a thin sheen of sweat, completely giving in to his instincts as he worked toward climax.

"Come on, then," Eames encouraged, his raspy voice even more hoarse and rough, and Arthur could feel one of Eames' hands move down, jerking briskly between their bellies. The thought of Eames' beating off while Arthur was fucking his ass as hard as he could manage sent hot spikes of arousal through Arthur, his heart pounding in all his pulse points and in his erection, his breath catching in his throat as he grunted and hunched over, spilling inside Eames in a hard series of spurts so intense they were nearly painful. Gold-burning heat flared up in the edges of his awareness, flooding him, overtaking all his senses, and he was pretty sure that if he'd been coherent, he'd have been humiliated by the strangled sound that he made.

Arthur didn't exactly black out but he did get lost in a haze of sharp pleasure and soft warmth for long moments as he tried to recover command of his upper functions. Once he came back to himself, he realized that he was lying on his side, Eames wrapped warmly around him, and there was hot jizz on his stomach. So evidently Eames had gotten off, no thanks to him. He hoped it had been before he had come, but suspected it hadn't been.

Regardless, Eames was nuzzling and kissing the contours of his sweat-dewed face, making soothing noises and murmuring something about how good that had been and how well Arthur had done. Arthur wasn't sure about that, was sure that he could have and should have done better, but at least they had both come. That was something, at least.

It was Eames' come on Arthur, but Arthur's come was inside of Eames. And when Eames pulled Arthur even closer, squishing the two of them together and kissing Arthur's mouth soundly, they were now both covered in Eames' jizz.

"Was that all right?" Arthur asked, once he was able to form actual sentences again. Eames was breathing heavily against his cheek, his hand pawing at Arthur's hair, and one leg was still slung over Arthur's hip, their still throbbing dicks pressed together between their bodies. It felt warm and comfortable, especially since Eames seemed to have managed to pull the covers over them, but Arthur thought that they both might feel better for a hot shower.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he added before Eames had even answered his first question, a little concerned because he hadn't really restrained himself at the end there.

"Of course not," Eames murmured, kissing him again. "It was glorious."

"Are--" Arthur began, but then Eames shushed him, cutting him off with another kiss.

"Do not ask if I'm all right again," Eames instructed firmly. He looked delightfully debauched, lying nose to nose with Arthur, his hair wild, his cheeks pink. Arthur kind of wanted to kiss him for hours, but before he did that, he thought that it would be better if they got cleaned up and into his own bed, which wasn't wet with lube and semen.

"Are you ready to shower?" Arthur asked, as though that had been his intent all along, even though he really _had_ been going to ask if Eames was okay a second time. It had just seemed the polite thing to do, after coming in someone's ass.

"Kiss me again," Eames requested imperiously.

Arthur slid his mouth over Eames', lips moving together lazily, tongue teasing at the corners before slithering over the jagged line of Eames' bottom teeth to seek out and twine with Eames' own tongue. He made sure that they were both breathless by the time he pulled free with one last nip at Eames' fat lower lip.

"Okay?" he asked, arching one brow.

"Better than," Eames purred, giving him a sleepy, blissed-out smile with his red lips.

It was a hard thing to do, dragging himself out of the bed, hauling Eames after him, but Arthur was determined. And covered in drying jizz. Once they were pressed together in the shower stall, letting the hot water wash over them both at the same time, he figured it was all worth it. And he was sure that if he'd bothered to articulate his thoughts, Eames would have readily agreed with him.

***

Eames loved sharing the shower with Arthur. He loved it even more, now, when his arse was pulsing and tender after having been thoroughly plowed by Arthur's gorgeous cock and his own cock was equally sensitive after having come so hard.

"You did a magnificent job," he informed Arthur seriously, as sense and reason began to return to him. Arthur really had made good work of buggering him, and he needed to let Arthur know this. Whether he realized it or not -- which, knowing him, he did -- Arthur thrived on input and feedback. And when it was good, so much the better. Eames had a strong suspicion that Arthur didn't know how amazing he was, and so he tried to take it upon himself to make sure to tell him, often and sincerely.

"It was good?" Arthur asked, his uncertain tone of voice only underlining what Eames already knew, and validating his response to it.

"Did you not hear me use the word magnificent?" Eames asked, smiling fondly to soften the words. He grabbed the soap and lathered up, running his hands appreciatively over Arthur's chest and stomach. They weren't either of them going to get hard again in a hurry, but it just felt _good_ to touch Arthur, to feel all the firm muscles under smooth skin that he had brought into use to fuck Eames so soundly. "You could hardly have done better."

"I will, though," Arthur said, with an adorably earnest expression on his adorably sexy face. Eames was caught between the urge to sigh in exasperation and to snog Arthur soundly. "I'll get better as I learn," Arthur continued when Eames paused, torn between reactions. "I know there can be a lot more to it than just sticking it in and pounding away."

Eames couldn't help laughing a little at this poetic description. Then he pushed in and kissed Arthur soundly before he could get the wrong idea. "And yet you did that so well," he murmured against Arthur's lips. "Trust me when I tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed it, darling. You don't think I'd have come all over us both if it hadn't gotten me off, do you?"

"But you...." Arthur didn't seem to know how to end that sentence and so Eames kissed him again.

"Far be it from me to discourage you from trying harder," he added, running his hands over Arthur's back, holding him close. "But please don't think that you did anything other than wonderfully just now."

"Sorry," Arthur said, flushing a little, though it was hard to tell with the lingering afterglow and the hot water and steam all around them. "I wasn't fishing for compliments, I swear. I just wanted to make sure I did all right, you know?"

"I know," Eames told him, affection filling him with even more warmth. "And I expect I'll be similarly insecure when it comes my turn to top. But I really did enjoy it. Every moment of it."

Arthur smiled, looking shy but intent at the same time, and this time he was the one who crowded in for a long, lingering kiss.

Once Arthur was properly reassured -- or at least seemed to be -- they finished bathing and dried off. Eames preferred to sleep starkers, all the more so when he was sharing a bed with Arthur, and so they crawled under the bedcovers naked together, huddled close for warmth until the cool sheets collected enough body heat, and then afterward, because it just felt good to hold each other.

"Thank you," Arthur said, his mouth smushed against Eames' chin, when they were both about to drifting off to sleep.

"No, thank _you_ ," Eames rejoined, and he _meant_ it. He had rushed things a little, pushing past Arthur's comfort point, but it had been well worth it in the end. Pun not intended, and yet quite amusingly apt.

Yes, it had stung a little, but Arthur didn't need to know that. And that had all been on Eames, anyway. He'd been the one who had urged that they graduate to the final level tonight, and had told Arthur to go ahead before he had completely stretched him. Eames had actually _wanted_ the slight ache, wanted to feel it after the fact. He'd loved having Arthur inside him, and he was looking forward to doing it all over again just as soon as they were able.

Not to mention, he trusted to what Arthur had said. That he was _going_ to get better. Eames had seen Arthur do that every time he had picked up a new skill, and he was excited by the prospect. This first fuck had been truly amazing. He could only _dream_ about what it was going to be like a week, a month, a year from now....

And then Eames' thoughts grew increasingly incoherent, and he drifted off to sleep. Giving him the chance to _literally_ dream about being fucked by Arthur. Because his brain knew what it wanted and he had only gotten a taste.

Well, he was a sixteen year old male who had found his first love. It was hardly surprising that sex was what was on his mind, sleeping as well as waking.

In fact, it would have been surprising if it had been otherwise.

***

Arthur woke up to Eames poking him in the back with his hard-on. But that was hardly anything new, and if they had been spooning in the opposite direction, it would have been his erection assaulting Eames. Which had also happened in mornings past.

Warm and sleepy, not even sure if it was morning yet or the middle of the night because the clock was on the other side of Eames, Arthur ground back into Eames' embrace.

He could tell when Eames began to rouse, his arms tightening around Arthur. He nosed at Arthur's neck, making a sleepy sound, then seemed to wake more fully even as his hips began pulsing in time with Arthur's.

The anal sex they'd indulged in last night had been great, Arthur thought with lazy arousal, but he also really enjoyed the feeling of Eames' cock rubbing up against the small of his back, hard but covered in soft skin, burning hot and leaking equally hot pre-come that smoothed the glide.

While Eames rutted against Arthur's back, making soft but genuinely sexy sounds into the line of Arthur's shoulder, Arthur reached down and started to jerk himself off. Usually Eames was coordinated enough to do this, but he was clearly half asleep right now and operating on instinct. Not that Arthur minded. He liked the way Eames was clinging to his waist, and his own hand felt perfectly good.

Nothing was going to quite compare to getting in Eames' ass and screwing him until they both came, but as far as sleepy, early morning sex went, Arthur had no complaints. He came, and then Eames grunted and came on his back, and _then_ Arthur remembered that they weren't supposed to be getting the sheets on this bed messy.... But he could just have Eames wash them later, he thought with sleepy smugness.

He kind of drifted off then, and the next time he woke he was on his back and Eames was lying half on top of him, like a great big sweaty blanket. Arthur never did mind the cuddling, but he was getting overly warm, and he had to pee. So he shoved his way unceremoniously out from under Eames, glanced at the clock, then swore, because it actually was time to get up now.

Eames protested and grabbed for Arthur, but missed pretty badly since he never opened his eyes. Arthur grinned, bending to kiss the top of Eames' head -- all that remained in sight once he had sunk into their shared warm spot under the covers -- then made his way to the bathroom.

After he got his bodily needs taken care of and washed away the lingering traces of come on his crotch and hands, Arthur returned to the bedroom and got dressed. There was usually a fifty-fifty chance of Eames rousing before he was done... and today was one of the mornings where he didn't.

Arthur didn't mind. Telling himself that the sex they'd had last night and the sex they would have later in the day counted as exercise, he decided to forgo his usual morning routine. Maybe he and Eames would go jogging later, once the sun came out and it warmed up -- in theory if not in actuality -- but Arthur wasn't too concerned about it. He couldn't goof off too many days in a row, but he felt that they'd both earned a nice quiet, lazy morning.

They were less than a week into winter break. They had over a week to go. Arthur was already feeling a bit blue about the fact that their parents would be coming home, and they would be going back to school... but that was a ways off, and there was no use fretting about it _now_. They were going to have a great winter break, what was left of it, and then after that things would pretty much be back to normal, except that they would be fooling around on a regular basis instead of wallowing in angst over one another; completely unnecessarily, as it had turned out.

But, again, it was no good dwelling over what might have been. They had this moment, and since Ariadne was busy, they had the entire day to themselves. For sex, for snuggling, and for whatever else they wanted. It was going to be _glorious_.

As the coffee began to percolate, Eames wandered into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his belly. He was sort of dressed for the day, in that he was wearing pajama bottoms -- which was ironic, since he never wore them to bed -- and a heavy sweatshirt.

"Morning," he said. Or at least that was what Arthur thought he said; it came out a little garbled.

"Good morning," Arthur replied. He was more articulate, having been awake longer, even though there was no coffee yet. "I decided we don't need to exercise today."

Eames grinned, easing Arthur's slight concern that Eames might think he was being overly imperious. "Sounds good," he rumbled, stepping over and claiming a kiss. "Don't think my arse is up to jogging this morning."

"Are you--"

Eames clapped a hand over Arthur's mouth before he could complete his urgent query, and Arthur glared at him over his stifling fingers.

"I told you," Eames said firmly. "It's fine, I'm fine. But I'm not a seasoned veteran when it comes to being screwed in the arse. Yet. So it's just as well I forgo the jogging, yeah?"

Arthur grasped Eames wrist and pushed his hand away. He forgave Eames that indignity, however, at the mischievous grin on Eames' face, and the light in his eyes. Not to mention his words.

"All right," he said, keeping his tone even and calm. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Just one more kiss first," Eames commanded. And Arthur had no problem with this whatsoever.

Their time alone in the house without school was finite, but they would have other days that came together like this -- weekends and holidays while Dad and Gloria were traveling, then when they made it to college -- and they had several more days of this now.

Even more importantly, they had today.

Eames' mouth was soft under Arthur's and the day was perfect. He already knew it was going to be, even though it had barely started. They were going to make it perfect, together, the two of them.

***

Eames could think of no more perfect start to a day than sleepy morning sex, curled up in the same bed with Arthur, without any pesky clothing getting in the way. Granted, he hadn't been awake enough to give Arthur the wank job he deserved, but Arthur hadn't complained and they had both gotten off.

Even better, then, climbing out of bed and joining Arthur in the kitchen, seeing Arthur with bed-head and a relaxed, satiated expression on his face. He was so good looking that it made Eames heart ache for a moment, even though that was an incredibly girly way to react. But there was something about Arthur that always seemed to make Eames think and act like a thirteen year old girl with her first crush instead of the almost-seventeen year old male he was. And it was his first _love_ , his _only_ love, not a crush.

Arthur was everything. He was Eames' world now.

Aaaaaaand, there he went, proving his own point.

Eames sat at the table and watched Arthur cooking them breakfast, sipping his tea and ruminating over the first morning that he had spent in this house. He recalled how he'd been attracted to Arthur even then. And he remembered the low simmering resentment he had felt, when Arthur insisted on doing all the cooking and cleaning.

He didn't mind so much anymore. And Arthur had realized some of what Eames felt, and he made an obvious effort to split the chores more evenly. The fact that he had noticed and made a change was even better to Eames than the fact that he had closer to his fair share of the household duties. And he liked when he was able to cook for Arthur and Arthur expressed his appreciation, even if it was for something as simple as a sandwich.

Well. Eames _did_ make killer sandwiches, if he said so himself.

"What do you want to do today?" Arthur asked, as the smell of browning omelette filled the kitchen, teasing at Eames' nose and setting his mouth to watering. "Aside from sex," he added, before Eames could open his mouth.

Eames smirked. "Great minds and all, yeah?"

"I thought it was a given," Arthur said with a completely straight face, but Eames could see the way his eyes were twinkling.

"I demand a repeat performance," Eames said, as smoothly as he could manage when he was talking about getting fucked in the arse. "And while we're at it, we need to do some more work on your arse."

Arthur turned back toward the stovetop, but Eames could see the tips of his ears turning red. He didn't feel bad, though, because he knew that Arthur wanted it as much as he did or more.

"Yeah, that's on the agenda," Arthur mumbled, dividing the omelette into two portions, then retrieving some sausage links out of the oven, where they had evidently been keeping warm. Whatever they got up to today, they were going to be well fortified.

"But what about when we're not fucking?" he asked, in a husky tone, setting Eames' plate down in front of him and giving him an evil smirk.

"Mm." Eames reached up and hooked one finger into Arthur's collar, tugging until he gave in and bent to give him another kiss. "I dunno. I'm open to suggestion. Did you have anything in mind?"

"Well." Arthur looked sheepish. "This is going to sound really lame, but Mal gave me a book before we left for my grandparents' and I kind of wouldn't mind a little time to read it...."

He looked embarrassed, looked as though he almost expected Eames to get upset with him, and Eames hurried to give him a wide smile.

"That sounds good," he said. "I've got some reading I could do too. Are you opposed to curling up together on the sofa while we indulge in this pursuit?"

"Sounds great," Arthur enthused, bringing his own breakfast and coffee over to the table. "As long as you don't mind...."

"If I did, I would go do something else," Eames said honestly. "But I don't mind at all. I wasn't snowing you when I said it sounded like a good idea."

Arthur nodded, looking as though he was convinced, or at least as though he wanted to be convinced. "All right, then."

"But first more sex, right?" Eames asked, with all the horny eagerness of a teenage male who had become sexually active with someone who was equally eager and horny.

"Of course," Arthur said. "And afterward, as well."

"Good," Eames nodded. "We have a plan, then."

And so they did. And everything worked out exactly to plan and better.

***

By the end of the first week, Arthur was beginning to get a little antsy. He really relished and looked forward to the feeling of Eames' fingers in his ass, and he felt as though he was ready to move on to the next logical step.

It wasn't so much that Eames was reluctant, or even dragging his feet. But he was so concerned over the idea of Arthur being ready, so worried about making it good, that he was beginning to drive Arthur a little crazy.

Arthur loved fucking Eames in the ass, he really did. No complaints there. But he wanted to share that amazing feeling. He wanted Eames to know what he felt, and he wanted to know what Eames felt. He thought they both could learn a lot from trading off.

And he really thought that he was ready. More fingering wasn't going to make much of a difference by this point. He was used to it, he was stretched, and it was true that Eames had a dick that was kind of thick, but not abnormally so. Arthur was sure that he could take it. Take it all and enjoy it.

Now, he just needed to convince Eames of this fact.

Or maybe.... Maybe he just needed to say something. Like that night in Arthur's grandparents' basement. Well, then he had kissed Eames to show his feelings. But in this case, words would probably work better. Certainly showing plenty of enthusiasm when Eames had his fingers in Arthur's ass wasn't getting the point across. Not the way Arthur needed it to.

So on the evening of the second week of winter break, Arthur bit the proverbial bullet, looked Eames straight in the eye, and said it.

"Into the bedroom, Eames. You're going to fuck me in the ass tonight."

From the way Eames hardened instantly in his pants, Arthur didn't think he was at all opposed to the idea. And they paced one another all the way to the bedroom.

***

Eames was nervous, but he sort of figured it was time. He hadn't been putting Arthur off on purpose. He'd just wanted to be sure that Arthur was as ready as they could make him. And he had to admit that they'd probably reached that point a day or two ago, if not earlier.

So he offered no quarrel when Arthur ordered him into the bedroom. They went into Arthur's room this time, because Eames had changed both sets of sheets, and because he thought that Arthur might be more comfortable doing this on his own bed. They could sleep there if it didn't get too messy, or they could go to Eames' room if they had the energy to do so afterward.

Eames blushed. _Afterward_. He could admit to the fact that he was a little nervous. He'd never topped before, and he was afraid of screwing it all up. It was almost like being a virgin all over again. Well, maybe not quite. But something like it.

He couldn't let his nerves show, though. He had to make this good for Arthur, and that involved making sure that Arthur had total trust in him, had no doubts. Arthur had to believe that Eames had no doubts. Which he didn't. Have doubts, that was.

Not doubts, but he was feeling more than a little trepidatious.

"It'll be fine," Arthur said, pausing to kiss Eames softly on the mouth where they stood beside his bed. Eames hated that it was _Arthur_ reassuring _him_ , but it did make him feel a little better.

"What was it you said to me?" Arthur continued, with an impish spark in his eye. "You could be an awful lay and it'd still be great because it was you?"

"Oy!" Eames protested. "I never said it like that!"

"It doesn't make it not true, though," Arthur said, smirking a little. "For me as much as you. And I don't even have anyone to compare your performance to. Though I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Eames winced a little at the reminder that he had been with someone else before Arthur, but Arthur hadn't said it in a jealous or accusative way. He'd just stated it as a matter of fact. Still, Eames wished that he'd known enough to save himself for Arthur completely.

Well, at least _this_ was going to be new for both of them. He could give Arthur that much, even though he wished that he could give him more.

"Shall we get undressed then?" Eames asked, a little embarrassed by how breathless his voice came out sounding.

"Hang on a second," Arthur replied. He slid his arms around Eames' waist and pulled him close, their mouths pressing together, warm and soft and familiar. Eames felt his tension melting away, and then even more so as Arthur continued to kiss him, soundly and deeply.

"Mm," he hummed, when Arthur finally broke the kiss with one last laving of his tongue over Eames' lower lip.

"Better?" Arthur asked, his eyes soft and warm as he gazed at Eames' face.

"Yeah," Eames sighed, smiling a little sheepishly, because he really had been working himself up over what wasn't such a big deal. Arthur hadn't been consumed with nerves like this, or if he had been he'd successfully hidden that fact. And he'd been banging Eames in the arse for days now, with ever-growing skill and confidence. It was only fair and polite that Eames return the favour. Before Arthur too far outstripped him in ability, not to mention.

Arthur stepped back, withdrawing his arms, but instead of removing his own clothes, he reached for the hem of Eames' shirt, pulling it over his head and off of him. Then he paused a moment to run his hands over Eames' chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, which stood to attention in return. Shivery splinters of pleasure shot through Eames' body, and his cock was growing rapidly harder inside his jeans.

Hands on Eames' shoulders, Arthur leaned in for another kiss, this one short and light. Then he turned his attention to the button and zip of Eames' jeans.

"Here," Eames rasped, reaching for Arthur's shirt, and Arthur let him take it off, but his hands went right back to Eames' waistband. He gave a firm tug downward, and then Eames jeans were around his ankles. He wasn't wearing anything underneath them, and so his cock bobbed free, hard and already leaking a little. Eames had always been a little embarrassed by that fact, but Arthur had told him he thought it was terribly sexy -- those might not have been the exact words he'd used, but the intent had been there -- and so Eames felt a little better about it now.

"No fair," Eames said, stepping out of his puddled jeans. "You're still in your trousers, and it's your arse I'm supposed to be getting into."

Arthur chuckled, and he really did appear to be at ease. And he was the one who was going to be taking it in the arse, as Eames had just pointed out, so Eames made a concerted effort to let go his own anxiety. He didn't need to worry about performing well. He just needed to do it, and he would do it well enough. He was sure of this. And even more than that, _Arthur_ was sure. That was the most important thing.

Eames made short work of the remainder of Arthur's clothing, and then once they were both naked they hopped into bed together. Unlike Eames, who had stashed his lube under a pillow, Arthur had his own set on the surface of the small stand beside his bed. Well, it wasn't as though anyone was going to come in and see it there. Even if their parents had been home, which thank God they weren't, Eames' mother wouldn't have come into Arthur's room. She didn't even usually go into Eames' room, and never without knocking first, for which he was grateful, even though he tried not to keep anything lying around that might prompt awkward questions.

Mum had seemed to be a bit at a loss where raising a boy had been concerned, but she had the knack for parenting a teen male. Mostly by leaving him alone until he expressed a need for her attention, even if this was a bit of a mean way for him to put it, even in the privacy of his own head.

But he really shouldn't be thinking of his Mum _at all_ when he was in bed with Arthur, about to engage in anal sex. God, he really needed to get his mind off of her! Talk about an immediate boner killer.

Fortunately, these thoughts had only skittered over the edges of his consciousness and he banished them quickly enough. Grabbing the lube, he tugged Arthur into his arms and kissed him soundly. Arthur wriggled up against him, his tongue squirming into Eames' mouth, effectively erasing all thoughts of Eames' Mum from his mind.

Arthur was warm and willing in Eames' embrace, his arms winding tight around Eames in return. It wasn't Eames holding Arthur, it wasn't Arthur holding Eames; they held one another.

As sappy as that was, the thought made Eames feel better. Not that he didn't feel plenty good already, of course, with Arthur pressed up against him in the best ways and places.

They were lying side by side on the bed, kissing one another soundly, and this was good. Very good. But Eames had an awareness that there was more to it than this, and he felt the powerful need to move things onward.

"Here, give me that," he instructed, fumbling for the lube. Arthur slapped it into his hand with no hesitation, stealing another kiss and rolling Eames underneath him.

"What?" Eames queried, brow wrinkling. He'd have thought he'd be the one on top, since he was, after all, topping. He didn't mind having Arthur lying over him, though. It felt grand, as it always did, and he brought his thighs up to either side of Arthur's hips, mashing their erections together with more enthusiasm than finesse.

"Hush," Arthur uttered, just as nonsensically as Eames had done. Not that they were ever at their most articulate during sex, but they could usually manage to speak in full sentences; enough to effectively communicate, at any rate.

"But--" Eames began, only to cut himself off as Arthur smoothly slid down his torso and popped Eames' cock in his mouth, no hesitation and nothing by way of warning. "Ah!"

Arthur may have pointed out the fact that Eames had had other lovers before him, but now that Arthur had a week's worth of experience with Eames and Eames' body, he seemed to be pretty damned confident and talented himself.

Not that Eames had any complaints about this at the moment, he thought hazily, arching his hips up into the hot-wet suction. That was pure instinct, though, and Eames knew better than that, once he got himself pulled back together.

"Arthur. Arthur, stop," he urged, reaching down with the hand not clutching at the tube of lubricant, and sinking his fingers into Arthur's soft hair. He didn't exactly try to shove Arthur away from his throbbing cock, but he did tug, very carefully.

Arthur let off, raising his head and licking his swollen lips as Eames' hard-on slipped free of them. Eames experienced the overwhelming desire to lick them as well, tasting his own pre-come on those delicious curves, but that would require moving, and for the moment he was only able to lie there and struggle to catch his breath.

"Better?" Arthur asked, quirking one brow, his ruddy lips curling in a wicked grin.

"Come here," Eames instructed, reaching for Arthur with his free hand. He was grateful for the fact that Arthur obeyed, levering up and claiming his mouth all over again, licking inside with intent and evident desire.

"Would it help if I prepared myself?" Arthur asked, already reaching for the lube. He was serious, wasn't being facetious, and it was clear that he hoped it would get them moving in the right direction.

Eames growled possessively, rolling them both so that Arthur was pinned beneath him. "No," he replied briefly. While the thought was a good one to set aside for later, the image of Arthur arching as his fine, elegant fingers sank into his own arse, Eames wasn't about to share the duties on this, Arthur's first time bottoming.

"I was just offering," Arthur murmured, but then Eames sealed their mouths together and did his best to destroy any of Arthur's higher brain functions with his tongue and teeth.

He didn't know how well he succeeded, but Arthur did quiet down -- hard to talk with someone else's tongue sliding up alongside one's own, after all -- and his arms came up to wrap around Eames' shoulders, fingers sinking into his hair.

Eames was nimble -- he'd been told he had "thief's hands", though not by anyone whose opinion he respected -- but he was a little clumsy with arousal, so he wound up getting as much lube on the sheets as he did on his fingers. Arthur had grown quite adept at managing this task, so Eames assumed he would as well... eventually. Not that he hadn't been using the lube on Arthur for their regular indulgence in fingering, -- and even though he had bought two large tubes, Eames was going to have to get them some more slick soon -- but there was just something about this time that made him fumble. He refused to categorize it as nerves. No more nervousness allowed; Arthur had made that much clear.

Eames certainly wasn't nervous as he worked his fingers into Arthur. Two at once, because they'd reached the point where Arthur could take this without any discomfort; or at least so he assured Eames each and every time. Arthur's arse was tight and hot around Eames' fingers, the same as ever, only now he knew that he was going to be sliding his hard, leaking cock into that same slick tightness.

Eames' cock jumped, pre-come blurting over his thigh, and he stepped it up to three fingers. Arthur was wrapped around him, murmuring encouraging things in his ear, and so there was no reason not to.

Nerves and anxiety were definitely a thing of the past, as Eames worked at getting Arthur stretched and prepped, dripping wet with lube and bucking eagerly under Eames, already begging him to put it in. Evidently Arthur had been restraining himself all this time, and now, with his husky pleas ringing in Eames' ears, how could he deny him?

Eames was ready to hike Arthur's legs up and slide into him that way, but as he shifted away a little in order to slick up his own demanding erection, Arthur rolled onto his stomach, very deliberately placing one of his pillows underneath himself, so that his cock was pressed up between his belly and its plush mass.

"Are you sure?" Eames asked, stroking himself and drinking in the amazing view he had of Arthur's straight back and the slight, exquisite curve of his perfect arse. He could have gotten himself off to this sight alone, and so he quickly removed his hand from his cock. He was slicked up, and he needed to last once he got inside of Arthur, at least long enough to give Arthur _some_ pleasure.

"Yeah," Arthur said breathlessly, folding his arms underneath his chin and twisting slightly to look at Eames over his shoulder. There were dimples right above his arse cheeks to match the ones on his face, and Eames wanted to kiss them. "I trust you at my back, Eames, and I think it'll be better for us both this time, if we do it this way."

"Okay." Eames liked fucking face to face, but Arthur was correct that this way was less awkward. And even though they'd both been screwing, and Arthur's arse was used to taking Eames' fingers, this was still going to be Arthur's first time receiving. And so it only made sense to keep him as comfortable as possible.

Since they'd resolved that, Eames gave in to temptation and bent to kiss the dimples over his pretty arse cheeks. Arthur sucked in a great breath, obviously not having expected this, and his hips jerked into the pillow beneath him. He let out a small sound that wasn't quite a cry or a moan, but was somewhere in between. It was very clearly a sound of pleasure, though.

Eames could have waited, but he'd put things off long enough by this point, and too long. So he shifted between Arthur's spread thighs, positioning himself so that the head of his cock was pressing right up against Arthur's hole.

Considering this to be warning enough, he then moved to pierce the tight ring of muscle and slide inside of Arthur's ready arse. Not only was it an incredible, intense experience, so hot and slick and squeezing his cock so perfectly, not only did he still have a good view of Arthur's beautiful rear, the rear that he was _inside_ now, but the knowledge that no one else had been here before struck him harder than he had expected.

He flushed, heated up from within by pleasure, squirting more pre-ejaculate inside of Arthur, as he steadily fed more of his aching shaft into that amazing tight clench. The sounds that Arthur was uttering made it clear that he was completely enjoying this, so Eames didn't pause or slow down, pressing forward until he was sunk as deeply into Arthur as he could get.

"Oh, God!" Arthur gasped, clutching hard at the sheets before him. His hips were moving back toward the penetration, and Eames bent to press a few heavy kisses to the sweat-dewed skin at the nape of Arthur's neck, both of them gasping as this shifted his hard cock inside of Arthur's body.

"Ready for me to move?" Eames gruffed, holding himself up on shaking arms, holding himself still through sheer force of will. His instincts were urging him to fuck into Arthur, to batter against that glorious pale arse until they both came, but he knew he was better than that, he was a courteous lover, dammit.

"Move!" Arthur gritted out, and before Eames could respond, before he could move to obey this command, Arthur began grinding his hips, driving his own cock into the pillow beneath him, and at the same time clenching rhythmically at Eames' erection with the tight vice of his hole.

"Oh, shit!" At that combination, Eames was lost. He couldn't have held back if he'd tried, and Arthur so clearly didn't want him to do so. Grabbing at Arthur's shoulders and setting his knees and toes into the mattress, Eames gained the leverage he needed to well and truly plow Arthur's supple arse.

It would have been nice if he could have said he lasted an impressive amount of time, but the plain truth was that he was so keyed up and this brand new experience was so intense that Eames couldn't have kept it going if a miracle had been involved.

He wished he'd had the wherewithal to look down at where his cock was driving into Arthur's willing body, but he was only really able to stretch himself out over top of Arthur and hold on. Arthur was thrusting just as vigorously as he was, shoving his own cock down into the pillow, grinding his arse up into Eames' penetration.

And when Arthur keened, shuddering, going tight all over -- and most especially around Eames' cock -- as he shot off into the surface of the pillow he'd been humping, well, Eames tumbled right behind him, the sudden added pressure on his cock bringing him over the fine edge into orgasm.

They shook their way through a mutual climax, and that was as amazing as anything could have been, Eames thought foggily through the hot crimson haze overwhelming his senses and mind. He clung to Arthur and they both heaved together, spending their loads in tandem, and Eames had no room left in him for anxiety, for nervousness, for anything other than lazy, self-satisfied satiation.

Together they flopped onto the bed. Eames was careful when he slid his cock out of Arthur's pink hole, but that was about all the finesse he had left in him. Once he was on his side, he just lay there with his head on the pillow, fighting to catch his breath and just _feeling_ the residual pleasure tingling in his cock, all over his body. Arthur rolled as well, plucking the pillow he'd defiled from under himself and tossing it behind himself, before sliding lithely forward to press up against Eames' chest.

Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur, holding him close. They were both gasping for air, both covered in sweat, and yet Eames couldn't think of anything more romantic than the two of them clinging together after such an intense shared experience.

"Thank you," Arthur mumbled against Eames' lips, an instant before kissing him soundly. Eames thought it was more than a little ridiculous for Arthur to be thanking _him_ , but since Arthur's tongue was in his mouth, he could hardly protest.

To say that he was only glad that he'd done a good job would have been a lie, seeing as he had enjoyed the fucking just as much as Arthur had done. But it had been a large part of it, and was growing larger now that they were finished and Arthur was curled up against his chest. This had been about more than Eames' pleasure; always had been. And half the pleasure he'd taken had been in _giving_ pleasure to Arthur.

Eames knew that before too much longer they were going to have to get cleaned up. And he was certainly going to be doing more laundry in the morning, or some time soon. But for right now they were curled up together and it was more than comfortable. It was _perfect_.

***

Arthur remembered the way that Eames had assured him after he had topped that he had done a good job, more than once. But he knew better than to return the favor. Eames was startlingly lacking in confidence -- something that still caught Arthur by surprise from time to time -- but he was worse at accepting compliments, even when they were honestly meant and sincerely offered.

Instead, Arthur made sure to touch Eames a lot more than usual -- and their usual was a _lot_. Yes, he was a little afraid that he might be coming off as needy, but Eames didn't seem to read it that way, and he not only allowed it, but he touched Arthur just as much in turn.

They rested in bed together, once all the washing up was done, stretched out naked under the covers. Neither of them was tired, but they were both feeling lazy and replete. Arthur lay on his back, Eames resting half atop him in what was evidently one of his favorite positions, his head resting on Arthur's collarbone. He was too heavy for this to be comfortable for long, but right now it was just right, and Arthur ran his fingers through the soft, damp strands of Eames' hair.

Arthur's ass was a little sore now, he had to admit, and it wasn't a very dignified place for such a deep-seated ache. But he kind of liked it. It was a reminder that Eames had been there. It made him feel as though they had accomplished something together, as ridiculous as that sounded. And he wouldn't have traded that for anything in the world.

"So, how do you feel about bottoming?" Eames rumbled into his neck, one hand petting lazily at his side under the covers, with no intent to titillate, only to share the closeness.

"I liked it," Arthur replied honestly. Then, continuing the trend of honesty, he added, "It was less work than topping, but even though I trust you, I'm not sure how I feel about the lack of control."

"You could ride me next time," Eames offered, and he sounded completely serious, not amused or at all as though he was humoring Arthur. His lips pressed, warm and soft and plush, against Arthur's upper chest.

"After a while," Arthur replied. Eames had wanted to rush right back into being fucked again after the first time they had done it, but Arthur felt the need to give his ass a chance to recover.

"Of course, darling," Eames murmured. He rubbed one cheek against Arthur's shoulder, then moved up and over so that they were curled side by side, tugging Arthur toward him, into his arms. Arthur shifted easily, even though it made his rear twinge a little. "Take all the time you want. Just let me know. I'll do whatever you like in the meantime, including cocksucking and rolling over for your cock in my own arse."

"So generous," Arthur murmured, smiling as he kissed Eames on the mouth. He liked it when Eames talked dirty like this in his rumbling voice, even though he was so far beyond the point of getting it up again that this was a faint dream of the far future.

"You know I love taking it," Eames said, as though he felt the need to clarify. "Any way you want to give it to me."

"I know," Arthur chuckled. He was actually confident that Eames was speaking the full truth. He really did love taking cock. Arthur had liked bottoming, it was a fact, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Eames liked it _more_.

Well, he had no problem with that. He'd give it to Eames whenever he wanted, however he wanted, and he'd be willing to take it whenever Eames felt like switching off.

But not until he'd recovered from this first time.

"You were great, you know," he told Eames, quietly but earnestly. Just because Eames didn't take compliments well, that didn't mean that Arthur shouldn't let him know, at least once. "In case that was in any doubt."

"Thank you," Eames said simply, just as quietly. And it was really just that easy. Or maybe it was something that Eames had deliberately done for Arthur.

Arthur kissed Eames softly on the mouth and they cuddled close together under the covers. There was nothing more perfect than this and nowhere else Arthur would have rather been.

And that truly went without saying.

***

"Mum and Oscar will be getting home tomorrow," Eames said, setting down his fork and giving Arthur a look that was more mournful than impish, despite his next words. "Have we had sex in every room in the house yet?"

Arthur grinned over his pancakes, his bright brown eyes twinkling. He was already put together for the day in a white button-up shirt and trousers, his hair combed but curling around his temples because he needed a trim. Eames was still in a sweatshirt and pyjama bottoms and his hair was a complete wreck. "I think so. But maybe I should make a spreadsheet."

Eames quirked a brow. "Or perhaps that's precious time that we could spend fucking," he said archly.

Arthur laughed lightly. "I was joking, Eames." He shook his head but he was smiling fondly. "Yes, we've had sex in every room of the house. Aside from the master bedroom and bath." Which they'd both agreed were off limits, and gross besides.

"It hardly seems like it," Eames mused, thinking back on their mutual climaxes with smug satisfaction and a certain amount of building heat. If they weren't in the process of finishing off a rather generous breakfast, he'd have suggested they screw in the kitchen again, right now.

"Well," Arthur said thoughtfully, with a quirk to those gorgeous lips of his that Eames recognized and most definitely approved of. "We could see how many rooms we can hit today. Just in the interest of making sure, you know."

Eames nodded, trying to appear as though he was contemplating the idea, even though the mere suggestion had sent a spike of lust through him. "That sounds like a good idea," he allowed. "And hallways. Don't forget about the hallway."

"And the car," Arthur added, and he was outright grinning now, the most adorable and sexy expression Eames had ever seen on anyone's face. Ever. Of course, it was _Arthur_ , so that sort of went without saying. "It'll be cramped, but I think we can make it work."

"We're leaving it in the garage, though, yeah?"

Arthur laughed. "Of course, Eames. I don't have an exhibitionistic streak, or any desire to get caught in the act just before our parents get home."

Eames nodded fervently, then he frowned a little.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, looking concerned.

"It's going to be tough," Eames admitted, knowing his lips were still tugging down at the corners, even with the prospect of a day full of sex with Arthur.

"What will?" Arthur tilted his head. He looked as though he already knew the answer, but he'd asked anyway, so Eames answered.

"Being circumspect around our parents. Especially after these past two weeks."

Arthur grimaced. "True. But think of the plus side."

Eames lifted his brows in a silent query.

Arthur's grin was back, dimples on full display. "Every night we'll go to bed in the same bed. Every day we'll be together. We've both got locks on our doors and parents who always knock. Not to mention, parents who travel a _lot_. We're not going to have to sneak around like a lot of other couples our age. Well, we'll have to _sneak_ , I suppose," he added, with his mad need for specificity. "But we'll also have plenty of privacy and once we leave for college, things will get a hundred times better."

Eames had already known all this, but it heartened him to hear Arthur verbalize it like that. "And," he put in, smirking a little, "When we screw in the car it'll be for a lark, not because we haven't any other choice."

"Exactly." Arthur stood, and Eames stood as well, and they met beside the table. "Now, instead of dwelling over the fact that our parents will be home this time tomorrow, let's make the most of the day we have left instead. Remember, every room."

"It's a goal," Eames murmured, as Arthur's mouth slid over his in a warm, syrup-flavoured kiss. Ariadne had declared radio silence for the final forty-eight of their winter break, with the addendum that they make it up to her later, and for this Eames loved her a little. He wasn't sure whether they'd actually make their goal, seeing as it was a large house and they had to spend at least a _little_ time sleeping, eating, and recovering from sex... but he intended to make a damned good go at it, and he knew Arthur intended the same.

"A worthy goal," Arthur returned, once they finally broke the kiss. Of course, by then Eames had practically forgotten what they'd been talking about, his cock punching out the front of his pyjama bottoms, the sensation of Arthur's tongue twisting around his own still tingling in his mouth.

"Arthur, you do know I love you," he said, and even though he spoke the words lightly he _did_ mean them.

Arthur met his eyes, looking startled for a moment, but then before Eames could start to fret that he had said the wrong thing or overstepped his bounds, Arthur's expression melted into the amazing smile that put his dimples on full display and made Eames' heart physically ache.

"I know," he said smoothly, then with equal lightness and equal intent, he added, "You know I love you too, right."

There wasn't any question mark at the end of that sentence, and this more than the words themselves put a core of warmth inside of Eames, filling him up with the desire and the _need_ to do nothing but cherish Arthur for the rest of their lives.

"Oh, absolutely," he murmured, and then he slid to his knees. What better way to declare his undying devotion to his stepbrother than with his lips? There were ways other than words that he could communicate his feelings.

"Oh, God!" Arthur expostulated, his fingers sinking into Eames' hair, and Eames smiled as well as he was able around the cock in his mouth. It could be that Arthur had just gotten the last word, but only technically, and Eames was about to completely rob him of his ability to speak.

There were an awful lot of rooms in the house, and if they wanted to screw in every one of them they were going to have to get on it. And they were both bound and determined to screw in every single one of them.

Up to and including the hallway.

Winter break was almost over and their parents would be back from their cruise in a little under twenty-four hours, but they had the rest of their lives stretched out before them. And for right now they had the house to themselves, and they were going to make the most of it.

Besides, starting the day off with a blowjob was never a bad idea.

=[end]=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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End file.
